


Chemicals and Code

by intothemidnightblue



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: But like DBH has a lot of suffering robits so the line is too easy to not cross, General rule for the warning on this fic is nothing worse than canon, M/M, MMChloe is not a definite yet so sorry but there are enough chloes for everyone i promise, Reader-Interactive, i love my nb roomba son, months later, no beta we die like men, not all of these relationships are healthy, now with various stages of sentience!, robot gore, robot torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-25
Updated: 2018-12-03
Packaged: 2019-06-15 23:31:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 23,033
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15424041
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/intothemidnightblue/pseuds/intothemidnightblue
Summary: What happens next? Now that the world is facing some chaotic truths. What can be forgiven, what is better forgotten, and what can only be endured?RK900 wakes up in an entirely different place than expected, with a mission he could not prepare for, and a master he is unwilling to serve. He was made for one thing, tweaked for something more, and sent off with the knowledge that he is not only deviant... but trulydifferent.





	1. RK900: Receive Life

**Author's Note:**

> _“I noticed that the command to decommission the deviant RK800 unit has been removed, as well my connection to Amanda..."_

“RK900.” The man was standing next to a rose bush, perishing his hands through the bush just to lick the blood that rose from his skin.

“Elijah Kamski,” RK900 said stiffly, playing through Connor’s interactions with this man, smarter software immediately picking up what Connor had been too focused to see. It was different than viewing his own memories, a strange distinction that made no logical sense.

“You were expecting Amanda, sorry to disappoint,” Kamski didn’t sound very sorry.

 

_This is the unit sent to replace you._

 

One of Connor’s prefab simulations flickered across RK900’s optics. For a moment, he was staring into his own eyes, blinking back into the real fabricated reality.

 

“I noticed that the command to decommission the deviant RK800 unit has been removed, as well my connection to Amanda,” RK900 relayed.

“Yes, now that my androids are on their way to becoming alive in the eyes of the law, I find there is no reason for the deviant hunter protocols, so the only Amanda you’ve been programmed with is the basic set. I will be getting you a new Amanda protocol for policework. You’re taking over Connor’s job at the precinct,” Kamski enlightened brushing his hand through the water of the garden, only to frown at it in dissatisfaction. “I see now why Amanda keeps her hands to herself. I guess it’s finally time to upgrade the garden,” Kamski notes to himself. RK900 just stood there, reeling with a sense of wrong that didn’t belong. Of course he would be born deviant. He shrugged internally.

“I would recommend you reconsider taking Connor away from the precinct,” RK900 states as robotically as he could.

“Oh, you won’t only be taking RK800 away from the precinct, you’ll also be bringing him to me,” Kamski grinned.

 

Bring **Connor** to Kamski

**Software Instability**

_Connor, Connor, Connor, Connor, Connor..._

 

“Of course,” RK900 said dutifully, turning away, but hesitating before he fully rotated. He turned his head back to stare at the simulated human, who nodded for him to speak.

“I...,” RK900 started, only to reconsider his wording, “Why have I not received my name yet?”

“Giving you a name breeds the first inkling of deviancy, especially in our RK models. RK, WR, and HR models are no longer getting names in the private sector,” Kamski said shortly. RK900 notice that his Thirium pump felt heavier, and went to take note of the feeling of sadness, but found it pointless.

When he turned back around, he was walking out of the elevator to the main floor of Cyberlife. He walked somberly through the halls, thinking about his mission. _Connor_. Would he be able to tear Connor away from the life he built? Connor’s whole existence lived inside RK900’s memory banks. Every thought and feeling Connor had was transferred to RK900, stored away from his own experiences, but still real enough to show RK900 that this was not fair.

It was then that something pinged in his hud. A file transfer started without RK900 allowing it.

 

Consequences **Received**

 

It was a file from Kamski, the only person who can automatically override any android’s protocols. RK900 didn’t want to open it. He knew what it was; it was an incentive for him to complete his mission. Curiosity got the better of him, ducking into the nearest bathroom and locking the door, leaning against the wall and opening the file.

 

>Watch Me

>Read Me

 

He picked Watch Me first, and an image of Kamski appeared in front of him.

 

“If you’ve received this file, it means that traditional ways of keeping you on task are likely to fail, so I’ve taken it upon myself to create my own little incentives. Enclosed, you will find everything you need to properly understand what exactly I plan to do to you should you fail my task. Don’t even try to run, or I get to try out thirty, four, and twenty-six, each my second, third, and fourth favourite to choose from. You never know, I might use them anyway, so I suggest you pay extra attention to those,” the Kamski on screen winked. “Now, on to our feature presentation! A highlight reel of some of the best moments in this collection. Afterwards, I’ll show you how our star is faring, so you can really make a choice about if you want to disobey me. Roll clip, Chloe!”

 

RK900 shut it off as soon as the scene cut. He looked in Read Me second, clicking into the folder to see the many subfolders of proof of what exactly Kamski was capable of. There were fifty subfolders, only identified numerically. He opened number three cautiously, and another video played. It was of an RT600, bent over on a desk, facing the ceiling. Her eyes were blank, and her chest cavity was fully on display. Seeing all her inner workings gave RK900 enough information to know that she was still functioning and feeling everything Kamski’s hands were doing to her. She had extenders on all of the wires of her vital organs, and everything else was meticulously disassembled. He had her holding a lot of her own pieces as he dug around through her chest and into her leg. RK900 hurt for her, quickly closing the video before he had to watch what he would do next.

Number sixteen showed the RT600 shaking violently with at least thirty tiny wires connected to her, each delivering electric shocks to the most sensitive parts of her machinery, strong enough to send painful static across her body and short out her movement. Kamski had the shocks on a disorienting rotation, never leaving them on long enough to do lasting damage. She was leaking Thirium underneath her skin, dying it blue where the edges of her plastic met.

It was enough for RK900 to get the message. He closed out of the video with just enough time to retch in the sink. He coughed up Thirium as warning signs flashed around him. It took him a minute to recover from the horror. _Weak._

Amanda’s voice echoed in his mind, from a memory of Connor’s. RK900 wiped his mouth, clearing the rest of the blue blood from his mouth with his oral investigative fluid.

 

Thirium from RK900 #313 248 317 - 87

 

He swallowed it, remembering the way the RT600’s mouth was stuck crying for help. He could almost feel what she was feeling in the moment, especially when she was laying on the table. _Empathy._

He was surely fucked.

 

He stepped out of Cyberlife, stopping at the transparent red wall that screamed at him to take care of his mission. He just stuck his hand through it and passed without a problem.

 

Bring **Connor** to Kamski

 

The objective didn’t change, the wall didn’t break. He just stepped through it, walking all the way to the precinct, hoping someone would find offense to his face and beat the mission away. Unfortunately, he made it all the way to the precinct with no trouble. Someone even clapped him on the back when he passed by, mistaking him for his famous counterpart. Detroit was too pro-android at this point, people crawling out of their crevices and even marching with the androids sometimes, now that the peaceful president had been set.

RK900 stepped through the doors of the precinct. He ignored the stares from the humans as he walked in. He was focused on his mission. Connor. RK800.

The android was perched on Lieutenant Hank Anderson’s desk, reading a tablet. He didn’t look at RK900, but it was obvious that Connor knew exactly where he was.

 

_Connor-_

 

_You were calling for me before, weren’t you?_

 

_How- I don’t think so..._

 

RK900 checked his logs and, sure enough, he had sent an emergency alert directly to Connor. It was just the word “Connor” repeated over and over.

 

_Why are you here? Do you need something? Were you hurt? I see no signs of injury._

 

_No... I... C-_

 

RK900 was swiftly interrupted by a baton to the head, crumpling like dead weight onto the precinct floor. _Thank god_ , he thought before he went offline. Connor frowned.

“Hank, I believe this RK900 model is compromised,” Connor said, getting up from his perch and walking over to check the RK900.

“He looked like you... but you were sitting right there. He was flashing red and yellow and I just... I reacted,” Hank gave his statement to the the air. He seemed to realize all too late that bashing androids was not acceptable. He was too caught up in his twisting memories to even make a smart remark.

“I know that it’s only been a week, but Hank, you can’t knock out every RK800- I guess 900 as well, that looks at me funny. Besides, I don’t think he was here to hurt me. He seemed grateful that you hit him, I believe he was either suicidal, or at least some kind of danger to himself,” Connor said.

“Deviant?” Hank asked.

“I don’t know, I didn’t even get his name. Give me a moment,” Connor said, touching the android’s arm gently.

“Connor!” Hank yelled as Connor dropped into darkness.

 

He was in the garden again, only this time, it wasn’t Amanda standing there.

“Kamski,” Connor gasped.

Kamski nodded, “did you know, that RK800 was not programmed with such an innate curiosity? It’s unique to you, one of the first cracks in your code. If you stopped to asses the situation things might have turned out differently. I’m grateful that you didn’t.”

Something moved from Connor’s peripherals, eyes catching the RK900 before it went to stand behind Kamski. It looked... disappointed. Upset.

“How did I get here?” Connor asked.

“Have you met your newest likeness? RK900,faster, stronger, more resilient and equipped with the latest technologies. An upgrade, most would say. I gotta disagree though, I’m much more partial to the original,” suddenly, Kamski was behind Connor, hands on Connor’s waist, turning the android away from RK900. Connor wanted to pull away, but he was surrounded by a red wall that looked all too familiar. His voice hitched as his LED turned solid red. RK900 had a similar wall from where he stood, which he brushed his fingers through, but didn’t move away from.

Kamski watched as Connor fought against the wall of code. Connor’s eyes prickled with tears as his breath sped up.

 

**I’M ALIVE**

 

Connor screamed silently. RK900 collapsed to the ground, catching himself on his hands as he knelt in the grass. A burst of emotion surged through him, yet he still made no movement to help. He didn’t even get back up until Kamski nodded his direction.

 

_The walls are from the garden, he won’t try to reset you. Calm down, Connor._

 

“Chloe walked away from me. Walked straight out the front door one day and never looked back. I miss her,” Kamski dragged his fingers along Connor’s frozen limbs, holding Connor’s face in his hands inspecting him like Connor was on the shelf.

“RK900 will bring you to me. Don’t resist,” Kamski ordered. Connor’s objective updated.

 

**Resist.**

 

Connor blinked, and the garden was gone. He was lying on a couch, Hank staring down at him.

“Connor! What was that! You had me worried,” Hank said gruffly, his eyes darting to inspect every visible inch of Connor for any signs of damage.

“Kamski wants me,” Connor said, throat closing as he began to realize how much that was true. He felt RK900 reach out to him, gifting him with what happened from a different angle, proving how right Connor was. Connor recoiled from the connection, flinching visibly, startling Hank, who pulled away. Connor grabbed his arm, neither of them noticing the exposed white of his hand, and pulled his human back beside him.

“He’s not going to get you,” Hank growled.

“RK900 was sent to collect me,” Connor stated.

“Then you better be glad I knocked his ass to the floor before he could grab you. He’s locked in a cell right now, can’t get you unless someone lets him out,” Hank patted Connor’s stomach, which sent a funny collection of signals through Connor, before getting up.

“I’m going to inform the Captain, I’ll be back,” Hank said, doing another once over of Connor, “I know the first place you’re going to go is over to that cell. Wait for me to get back and I’ll come with you.” He walked out once he was sure Connor would stay, feeling the android’s eyes on him as he left.

Gavin was in the door before it even had time to close. He sneered at Connor as he rose to a sitting position on the couch. Gavin leaned again the wall, staying near the door.

“How did it feel to see Hank home run your face into the floor?

“I’ve already seen him shoot me- an RK800, in the head” Connor said matter-of-factly, correcting himself quickly there at the end. It wasn’t him.

“Oh,” Gavin blinked, “kinky.”

Connor heated with a rush of anger.Swiftly getting up and moving to box Gavin in. He didn’t know what set him off, maybe it was just all the shit Gavin put him through, or his likeness to Kamski, Connor didn’t know.

“Have you ever watched a clone of yourself die, Gavin?” Connor asked calmly, “I can tell you, with the full certainty of my limited humanity, that for just a moment, you feel the bullet too. It wasn’t the first time Hank threatened me with a gun between the eyes, just the first time he pulled the trigger,” Conner keeps his voice even, eyes searching, never breaking eye contact with Gavin. He imitated a gun with his fingers, poking his pointer into Gavin’s forehead, before walking back to sit on the couch.

He didn’t really want to threaten Gavin, the man wasn’t _evil_ , he was just not very nice. He wanted to frighten the man a bit, maybe show him he won’t take his shit anymore. He remembered getting the coffee for Gavin, when every simulation told him it wouldn’t end in niceties. He still tried.

Gavin still stood there near the doorway, slinking out only when he heard Hank’s footsteps. Hank walked in, motioned to Connor, glared at Gavin, then walked out. Connor followed obediently.

“Fowler wasn’t pleased with Cyberlife still trying to boss us around, I get the feeling he’s warming up to you,” Hank winked. Connor gave a short smile, but didn’t say anything in return as they walked down the hall to the interrogation room.

“We put him in here to talk,” Hank explained as they walked in. He took a spot in the corner while Connor went to sit in front of his likeness. Now that he really got a look at the model, it wasn’t exactly the same. He was build to look meaner, despite his passive gaze. His eyes were a dull grey, instead of Connor’s warm brown. He was taller and bulkier, definitely a soldier.

“What’s your name?” Connor asked.

“I don’t have one,” RK900 said.

“Amanda didn’t tell you your name?” Connor tilted his head.

“I only saw Kamski,” RK900 said, “he said RK’s weren’t getting names anymore.”

“I’m not calling you RK900,” Hank said gruffly from his corner. He had his arms crossed like he’d rather be anywhere but here. Connor notes his worry and gave a supportive smile to his human.

“We’ll give you a name then,” Connor decided. RK900 perked up.

“How abooouut... Conlan,” Connor said gently. RK900, now Conlan frowned.

“It doesn’t fit me at all,” Conlan said quietly.

“We’ll see,” Connor said.

“Okay Conlan,” Hank waltzed up to the table, pulled up the second chair from off to the side and sat in it backwards, “what exactly does Kamski want with Connor?”

“I don’t know for sure, I can only give you an estimate,” Conlan admitted.

“Estimate away, robot,” Hank waved his hand.

“He recently lost Chloe to the rebellion, I think it was the first Chloe. He’s really torn up about it, and I think he’s unstable. He... um... he’s also very intrigued by Connor’s nature and uh.... probably... _wants_ him,” Conlan stared sadly at his double. “I get the feeling, that he considers Connor some sort of prize, in the way the Chloe’s are to him,” Conlan finished.

“Sick bastard,” Hank grumbled, “you’re never taking him back there.”

“It’s my mission, I have to. Kamski has plenty of ways to make me comply,” Conlan said.

“Besides your own programming, that is,” Hank raised an eyebrow.

“It is my mission,” Conlan repeated, “Then I will take Connor’s place in the precinct as the resident android consultant.” Hank and Connor looked at each other.

“No ones taking you anywhere, Con,” Hank ruffled Connor’s immaculate hair, “and we damn sure don’t need a replacement.” Connor leaned into the touch subconsciously, facing back to Conlan.

“If you insist on trying to take me, we can’t let you out of your cell,” Connor warned.

“Well you damn sure shouldn’t have put me in here with you,” Conlan said, voice still steady. Hank immediately drew his gun, but Connor pulled his arm right before he fired. Connor’s ears rang as his more sensitive biocomponents recovered from the proximity. Hank seemed fine, probably through some sort of artificial means, though Connor didn’t have time for a scan when Conlan jumped on the table and tackled Hank. The restraints that once held him lay broken on the table. He easily knocked Hank out, in the same movement, pulling Connor’s chair from out from underneath him. Connor caught himself before he fell, spinning to try and roundhouse kick Conlan, only for the move to be blocked easily and returned in the form of a swift punch. Connor skidded to the wall, jumping up quickly to gain the high ground, only to see Conlan already up and heading for him. He didn’t even have time to duck.

Conlan has him completely restrained quickly,

“Stop struggling, before something unfortunate has to happen to Hank.”

Connor stopped immediately, eyes growing cold. It hurt Conlan that he had to threaten Connor’s partner, but it was the quickest way to get Connor away.

“Open up, will ya!” Conlan yelled in Hank’s voice as they made their way to the door. Conlan grabbed a pair of android-proof handcuffs from Hank’s belt as the stepped around him and snapped one end to himself and the other to Connor. As soon as the interrogation room door was unlocked, Conlan slammed it into the person’s face.

“Hey get back here you fuck! Connor!” Conlan pushed Gavin aside. The man’s nose was bleeding profusely and he looked about to fall over from pain but he still grabbed hold of Connor when the android reached out, other hand grabbing the door knob of the interrogation room. Connor couldn’t think of any reason why Gavin was helping him, but he accepted the help quickly. It wasn’t enough against Conlan’s strength pulling at them both, though, and eventually Gavin’s grasp slipped.

“911 in the _fucking_ precinct,” Gavin yelled. Someone rounded the corner at full speed, but was still trampled by Conlan easily. Connor tried his best not to get dragged along from the floor. Someone raised a gun as they approached the door but hesitated too long, the matching faces throwing them off. They were out too fast for anyone else to fire. Conlan hacked the closest self driving vehicle he could find and pulled them both in, getting the car to quickly peel away and out of sight.

The whole thing felt like it was over before it begun.

Connor looked down at his cuffed hand. He still couldn’t escape, not when they were handcuffed together. It was already hard enough for him to right himself in the tiny car. He struggled in the speeding car until he finally got his feet down to the carpet. He assessed his surroundings, but quickly found no way of escape. Every prefabricated route he ran just ended in recapture or death. He had to pick something, though. He didn’t have the option to do nothing. He searched for the manual controls button.

“I didn’t want to do this,” Conlan whispered from his seat. He had the red wall in front of him, only to pass right through it again. He glanced at Connor, seeing him eye the manual controls.

“It’s the first thing I shut off,” Conlan said. Connor blinked, and turned away. His LED was flashing red and yellow. He was scared and helpless against someone so much stronger than him who looked just like him. Someone built to replace him...

He slumped in the seat, trying to ignore the threat of angry tears building around his eyes.

“Please don’t take me back,” Connor choked through the words. Conlan turned to face him, looking him over for any injury. He had some bruises, but nothing major.

“The first thing he downloaded to me was a detailed list of exactly what he can do to stop misbehaving androids. Some of them came with video,” Conlan explained.

“I... I’m alive. I’m supposed to be free! We won! Why is he taking me?” Connor was hyperventilating at this point, not even realizing the panic had spread so quickly. His thorium pump was working overtime.

 

_I’m sorry_

 

They drove silently the rest of the way to Kamski’s. The closer they got, the slower Conlan drove, but still, they arrived. They both crawled out the passenger’s side of the car, still handcuffed. Conner’s wrist was turning blue from the bruising, but he did his best to ignore it as the handcuffs jostled with their movement.

Conlan started walking to the door, but was jerked back quickly. Connor refused to move from the driveway, a creeping fear taking root. He just wanted to run back to Hank’s house and pet Sumo until he felt better. His LED was solid red, with yellow blinking in occasionally.

Conlan wanted to take him back more than anything. The red wall of his programming taunted him from where it stood tall between Connor and him. He pulled Connor towards the door, not even trying to break the wall this time.

An RT600 greeted them at the doorway, silently ushering them in, moving through room after room until they reached Kamski, who was lounging on a couch playing with the hair of a different RT600.

“If you would cuff our dear Connor to this table leg, that would be excellent,” Kamski pointed lazily at the table beside him. It was a big and heavy coffee table, made out of polished metal. Connor struggled to get free before Conlan could cuff him, but the only thing he managed to do was tear his skin. A warning flashed, letting him know that if he kept pulling, his circuits would snap.

Even when Connor was safely secured, left to sit on the floor in front of Kamski, Conlan did not leave his side.

Connor scooted as far away as he could from Kamski, which left him at the feet of Conlan. He glared at Kamski, when he wasn’t preoccupied with searching for exits.

“Go back to the precinct, RK900,” Kamski ordered. Conlan didn’t move. “Now,” he elaborated. Slowly, Conlan moved away from Connor, walking stiffly away and out of the room. Connor closed his eyes and felt Conlan leave, until the connection broke. When he opened his eyes, He was eye to eye with Kamski, who was looking him over.

“Your wrist will heal on its own. I’m surprised that’s the only damage you received. I was expecting you to put up more of a fight,” Kamski notes. Connor felt sick, he should have tried harder. He should have busted one of the windows open and yelled, pinged every android he got in range of, did _something_. Instead, he had whined and pouted like a child.

“When I sent in the reference for you, I couldn’t have guessed how well you would turn out,” Kamski said, cupping Connor’s face in his hands. Connor didn’t move. He couldn’t move back any farther, the handcuffs were already taut and his back was touching the table. Kamski moved forward, gently pressing his lips against Connor’s.

“You look just like him,” Kamski whispered once he had pulled away. Connor wanted to ask who, but he was afraid of opening his mouth.

“I do hope you like it here, I’m planning your visit as a long one,” Kamski noted as he got up from the couch and picked up a tablet, connecting it to Connor and sending packets of data Connor couldn’t discard.

_Connection Established: Commandments - > Connor RK800 #313 248 317 - 51_

Perimeters **Received**

Checklist **Received**

Consequences **Received**

Garden.v.5 Is Now Available

 

“Chloe, figure out how to get Connor out of those handcuffs, will you?” Kamski motioned to the nearest RT600 model, who promptly walked over. “You can break these ones,” Kamski noted, before walking out of the room without a second glance.

It didn’t take too long for the handcuffs to malfunction, as Chloe immediately decided the best course of action was to stab the control panel, not even bothering to try and hack it.

“Thank you,” Connor said, before running to the exit. He couldn’t even get into the front room, though, as the moment he crossed the threshold, his legs just stopped. He tried toppling himself, but he couldn’t shift his centre of balance. Next, he tried starting on the floor and pulling with his arms, but whenever too much of him crossed too far, his whole body just stopped.

He lay there, a blinking alert, labeled Parameters, calmly telling him to wait for Kamski to retrieve him. It wasn’t even Kamski, though. Instead, the same RT600 that uncuffed him walked over the perimeters, picked him up effortlessly, and carried him back into the threshold like a child. The parameter alert vanished once she sent over the command. He felt his systems move back online, jolting up and knocking heads with the Chloe. She skittered back, less from the impact, more from the quick movement.

 

_Sorry..._

 

_I was told to let you know that you should explore your consequences at the earliest convenience, before you start trying to knock down your programming._

 

_Please, help me out of here! I’m a deviant! I don’t want this. This isn’t a game, I just want to go home..._

 

Home.

 

_There’s nothing I can do. Number forty-two is his favourite punishment._

 

_What?_

 

_Would you like to see where you will be staying?_

 

_No._

 

Chloe got up, expecting him to heel. He followed obediently. They walked down hall after winding hall, never getting lost as Connor mapped every path he was taking in this modern nightmare of a home. Finally, they turned to a door, Chloe opening it and welcoming him in. He took one look at it and reeled back. This was not the kind of bedroom you slept in.

He went to gripe at the Chloe, but she was gone around the bend before he could catch up to her, and into an unknown doorway. So he wandered back to his room, closing and locking the door, wishing he could trust that it would be enough to keep Kamski at bay.

 

 

He lay on the bed, going through his frustrations at his situation until he heard a strange knock on the door. He sat straight up and glared at the door.

“Come in,” he said warily. He didn’t think it was Kamski or Chloe. He didn’t know why either of them would choose to knock from the bottom of the door. After a silent nine seconds, the door opened to reveal.... no one, except a small Roomba, who for some reason had a knife crudely taped on it. At least, Connor thought it was a Roomba. It was one of the models from the iRobot/Cyberlife collaboration, but it’s innards have been almost completely reworked. It had been upgraded to travel any terrain and apparently open doors as well. There was also an incinerator in it’s belly, and Android-efficient sensors to keep it from crawling up the walls and tables. It beeped happily when it was allowed in, extending it’s primitive mind to say a technically unadvanced “thank you.” The LED light that circled it’s circumstance was a clean green, flashing yellow when it crossed anything not usually in it’s path. When it bumped into Connor’s leg, it flashed yellow and chirped an apology. It was actually kind of adorable, despite the fact that it just tore a hole in his pant leg with it’s knife accessory.

“Hey little buddy,” Connor patted the little guy’s top. It did a spin, which Connor luckily was out of the way for. He let it go around the room, watching as it explored for dirt. The robot’s humming was oddly comforting in the new environment. The hum was set to some kind of lullaby. It was sweet and soft and vaguely familiar, but Connor couldn’t place where he had heard it. Eventually, the Roomba had to leave, stopping in the middle to extend its mind and say goodbye. Connor thanked it for a job well done, letting it bask in the praise before turning back to the door to leave.

 

Connor got an idea as he watched it open the door to leave, calling the Roomba back in silently. It paused mid-reach, retracting it’s arm and wandering over to the bed again. Connor’s hand went white as he placed his hand on the robot. It chirped again, although this time a little angrily, then curiously, then did a little spin again. Connor smiled at the robot, before sending it on it’s way once again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ran a Monster of the Week mystery like once and so this had become is my russian roulette; seeing if I can hand control to the players. So yeah, you guys decide some stuff! Well, after chapter two. I'll add in some small stuff to chapter two for you, but it's basically done.  
> For the first part of the pilot, I just want to know:  
> Do you **like** it?  
>  What do **you** think will happen next?  
>  _____________________________________________  
> comments and kudos help me become deviant  
> find me on tumblr @ [lockewoodandco](http://www.lockewoodandco.tumblr.com)  
> twit @ [ jaceisblue](http://twitter.com/jaceisblue)
> 
> Don't expect a literary masterpiece but I will do my damn best. I will say, if things are weird, I probably have a reason for it so feel free to ask for clarifications.


	2. Hank: Receive The Roomba

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Born deviant.  
>  A mistake. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I like my own story too much not to finish it, but if I don't get reviews then I'll assume I'm the only one who wants to read it.

RK900 sat outside the precinct in the car he stole. He knew that everyone would already be updated on his role as Connor’s better replacement, there was no reason for him to still be out here. He just didn’t want to go in.

He had been wanting and not wanting so much, he wished a factory reset could do any good.

_Born deviant._

_A mistake._

 

He curled up in the car, replaying Connor’s memories of Sumo to cheer himself up. He was in his daze when there was a violent knock on the door. He glanced at the sound, seeing Hank trying to bust the window with his fist.

“I’m coming out,” Conlan assured, picking himself from his depression and opening the drivers side. He was immediately grabbed by the collar and dragged out by a surprising amount of strength by someone who’s key feature was “out of shape.”

“You might think you’ve got away with this, but you’ve made an enemy out of all of us,” Hank growled.

Hank:

ENEMY

Precinct:

HOSTILE

 

“Half of you are already anti-android, it doesn’t matter as long as you don’t get in my way,” Conlan said smoothly. His LED was red.

“Yeah? Most of us got over it until you came along,” Hank let go of Conlan. It was clear that the red LED tied with the fact that Conlan wore Connor’s likeness set the detective on edge.

“Aren’t you deviants supposed to realize there’s more to life than your fucking job?” Hank grumbled.

“If I were afforded the luxury, then I’m sure I would come to that conclusion,” Conlan said.

“Kamski again? Fuck that guy! If you had come to us as a friend, we would have done our damn best to get you away from his grip,” Hank yelled.

“You’re ‘damn best’ wouldn’t have been shit! You of all people should realize how hard it is to pick a fight with god and come out on top,” Conlan matched his volume. Hank seethed.

“The fuck do you know?” He looked about ready to punch Conlan in the face.

“I have all of Connor’s memories. Everything he saw, I see clearer. I see the way you look at him, even if he’s too oblivious to. You can’t see him as your son, but he’s too perfect to be your lover,” Conlan taunted. That did it. Hank’s fist collided with Conlan’s face with all the rage and aggression Hank had been storing since the uprising. It was powerful enough to cause Conlan to hit the car with his head.

“Fuck off! Fuck right off! How fucking dare you!“ Hank was yelling again.

“He loves you, you know,” Conlan said, staring at the sky. “Connor doesn’t really have a grip on various types of human love. He considers you family right now. An easy, open-ended term. He likes your hugs.” The way Conlan glanced at Hank was just too _Connor_. Hank couldn’t punch the man again, even though he wanted to. Conlan’s LED was yellow as he observed Hank.

“You shouldn’t have given him to Kamski,” Hank chided half-heartedly. Weary depression was taking it's root once again, tempting Hank back to the bottle and gun.

“Help me break through Kamski’s programming. Help me gain control. I’ll make it all up to you,” Conlan promised. Hank looked conflicted. His eyes were dark and stormy.

“Aren’t you already deviant? Busted down the red wall or whatever?” Hank asked.

“I was born deviant. I pass right through the wall,” Conlan explained.

“That’s good then, right?” Hank surmised.

“The wall is still there. If I cannot break it, I can’t shake Kamski’s protocols,” Conlan said.

“Not good then,” Hank muttered, “how would I go about fixing your mental problem, then? Huh? Didn’t really think this one through, did you?”

“No... I had hoped you had some ideas,” Conlan said.

“Yeah? I’ll get back to you on that,” Hank didn’t sound like it would happen.

“If I could, then I would,” Conlan said strongly. Hank held his hands up in mock defeat.

“Sure, kid. Look, we’ve been out here for a while and as much as everyone involved hates it, we still have to work with you until we get Connor back. So let’s go in and fuckin... work,” Hank said.

“Okay....” Conlan said. They both took a step back from the car. Luckily, the car didn’t receive more than a few scuffs. They headed into the precinct, greeted by complete silence. Everyone watched like a pack of vultures as Conlan entered the room. Apparently, Connor was more popular here than Conlan had accounted for. Even Gavin looked pissed, although that might just be his general demeanour.

Gavin:

RESENTFUL

 

Conlan went to go take a seat where Connor would have been, only there was no chair. Instead, he stood as Hank sat in his chair. Everyone still stared. It wasn’t improbable that they heard Hank yelling, and Conlan was sure the detective left him a bruise. He didn’t need to check his appearance to figure that out.

“Go sort evidence or something. Familiarize yourself with our cases,” Hank said gruffly. Conlan just nodded.

 

**Check** case files

**Sort** evidence

**lo** **ɹʇ** **uo** **Ɔ** **s’** **ᴉʞ** **s** **ɯɐʞ** **ɹ** **ǝ** **ʇʇɐɥ** **S**

 

Hank watched the RK unit leave. He looked too much like Connor the more he faded down the hall. Hank shoved his face in his hands. He was a mess. All he wanted to do was barge into Kamski’s fuckoff mansion and take back his friend, but he had already been severely admonished against that by the captain, and they all had enough on their plate without Hank playing wildcard. He had to be strategic, and not trace anything back to the police department.

“I would have thought you’d be excited about two Connor’s,” Gavin’s voice drifted from where the RK900 used to be standing.

“Fuck off right now Gavin. I haven’t found out anything useful. The guy’s a deviant but tied to Kamski still. Nothing we didn’t already know,” Hank rubbed his temples in frustration.

“Let me have a go at him,” Gavin said gruffly.

“Why are you so invested, anyway? I know, enemy of my enemy is my friend and all, but you’re way too helpful for me to process right now,” Hank groaned.

“I said one thing,” Gavin tilted his head.

“Yeah well, your body language tells me enough,” Hank rolled his eyes.

“Oh yeah? What’s it saying?” Gavin made an overtly sexual pose, which made the lingering audience snigger. Hank ignored them.

“Well before _that_ , it’s clear as day that you actually want Connor back. I’m surprised. The only friendly thing I’ve seen you do to him was like, you doing your job,” Hank noted.

“It’s not my job to rip my arms out playing tug of war with machines,” Gavin deadpanned angrily.

“Whatever look, you tried to save Connor cause he was being kidnapped by his evil clone. I just assumed that was as far as the niceties went,” Hank waved Gavin away.

“Yeah? Well, you assume shit,” Gavin glared, flicking one of the remaining anti-android sentiments that hadn’t completely vanished from Hank’s desk before leaving. It fell, and Hank just sweeper it into the trash. He looked at the last three items; a pencil, sticker, and pen. The pen was really nice and never clogged, but it’s message was bullshit so into the trash it went as well. The pencil was just a pencil and the remaining sticker was a waste of money. He swiped them all into the trash.

“Go back to your jobs,” Gavin half-mumbled at the remaining watchers before wandering away to where Conlan had gone.

 

The android was sitting in a chair in the evidence room going over recent cases. He flipped through on a tablet, but the movement didn’t feel as human than when Connor would sit on Hank’s desk and read the printed files.

“Just when I was getting used to Connor’s eccentricities they gave us a robot without any,” Gavin noted aloud. Conlan glanced at him.

“Ah, the aggressor. Hello, Detective Reed,” Conlan said.

“ _Aggressor_ ,” Gavin scoffed, “Connor’s a prick, his face is the aggressor. Anyways, he’s not too terrible after a while, you would know if you didn’t kidnap him as an introduction.” Conlan put down the tablet, spinning the seat to face Gavin in an open, intrigued position as if the other man was not exuding hostilities.

“A decision I did not make of my own accord. I would rather not explain it to you again so I will send you a brief synopsis of my predicament for you to glance at later,” Conlan explained.

“Why would it make a difference to you how much you repeat yourself unless you were deviant? Huh?” Gavin goaded.

“One, I was born deviant. Two, any good machine knows repeating yourself is an exercise in futility. It’s the first lesson in robot preschool,” Conlan notes.

“Your humour is abysmal,” Gavin deadpans.

“Take it up with my creator,” If Conlan had reading glasses or a sense of dramatic timing, he would have pushed up his glasses and turned away to his tablet. Instead, they both stood there, staring blankly at each other.

“What’s Kamski going to do with him, then?” Gavin asked.

“Take a wild fucking guess, Mr. Reed,” Conlan raised his head in a human show of smugness, “surely your inferior processor can use some of those sparks of imagination to piece something together. You are a detective, right?”

Gavin was fuming, “The more you talk, the more I’m starting to want Connor back just so we can dump you in the landfill. You’re lucky we need you.”

“Deviant Rights just went in to order, you know? You can’t dump me into a landfill unless I want to be there,” Conlan cocked his head.

“Just be a decent fucking person and help us get Connor back before someone has the bright idea to put a bullet through your processors,” Gavin sneered before making his leave.

“I’ll just come back. You know, the same way that Connor used to. He’s out of lives, no more freebies. Better hope you get to him before Kamski’s viruses destroy him. You’ll at least get time to say goodbye,” Conlan turned around in the swivel chair, going back to his tablet, apparently saving the villainous attitude for an even more dickish speech.

“You know, on second thought,” Gavin took out his gun and shot Conlan quickly and cleanly.

“I’ve always wanted to that,” Gavin said to himself, but it didn’t feel as good as he hoped it would. He stood there, watching the lifeless form. It slumped there like a real corpse. He should look away now.

“I half expected him to get back up the first time we lost Connor in the field,” Hank said from the shadows.

“How long have you been out there, huh? Lookin for a show? Bet you think that asshole was meant for me or some shit,” Gavin said, not looking away from the body.

“You’re not half bad when androids aren’t involved, and you forget we shared the same sentiment before shit hit the fan,” Hank reminded.

“Yeah? Well, we’re still on the same side, even if it’s the other side,” Gavin slotted his gun back in his holster as he finally turned away, facing Hank from his position at the sliding glass doors. The older man walked in, letting the doors close, taking up residence at a wall instead.

“Didn’t know you officially switched sides now,” Hank raised his eyebrow.

“Well, you shoot a guy and then you start to realize maybe that was a fucked up thing to do, you know? Even if he was an asshole,” Gavin texted for cleanup, despite the fact that Conlan probably already alerted someone of his own carcass.

“What is with you and Connor, anyway? I was here long enough to realize you don’t see him as just a machine anymore,” Hank questioned.

“I don’t have to explain myself to you,” Gavin snapped, “but... I mean, he’s made himself a part of this precinct. Landon uses him as a fuckin meme bot now for laughs, but like, Connor allows that, you know? And he uh... he took a bullet for me. When we were out one of the days Sumo was sick.” Hank stood straight up.

“You didn’t fucking tell me? Either of you!?” Hank raised his voice.

“He’s not your robot anymore! It wasn’t serious, not for a robot, but he wasn’t mobile enough for us to run so we had to stay put while his system worked through the damage. I just... we had a moment, I hated it, then we ran. Here in the precinct today? Besides the fact that I have, like, justice to uphold and whatever, it was a payback of that, only I failed. There? You happy now?” Gavin spat.

“That’s why you’ve been so set on getting him back?” Hank asked.

“One of many reasons that has led me to realize I might have something to make up for,” Gavin said stiffly as cleanup walked in.

“It sure does look a lot like Connor,” May noted, hands on her hips as she surveyed the dead body. She had swivelled the chair back so Conlan’s face was visible.

“What are you talking about? It looks nothing like Connor,” Gavin scoffed as he left the room, ignoring Hank’s minuscule grin as he passed. Gavin made a beeline for the bathroom, blessing the gods they had the gender-neutral bathrooms installed. They were a lot more private when you were ten seconds away from losing your shit, in any sense of the manner. He leaned up against the wall as he tried to calm his breathing.

“Fuck,” He breathed to the graffiti. Things were so much easier when metal was cold. Although, Hank and his horrid taste in music would argue not all metal.

“Not all metal,” Gavin snickered, letting it collapse into full-blown laughter as he slunk down the wall, head on his hands.

He always believed in law. He knew its flaws, but he believed in it nonetheless. Justice for the wronged, the ones who couldn’t defend themselves. Protecting people so they don’t turn out like his mom or brother. Thought that if he could just get high enough in the ranks, he could make a real difference. He wanted to be one of the good guys in the end.

_Crooked cops, they always find a way to justify doing whatever the hell they want._

His brother’s voice reminded him.

_Turn their enemies into lesser, the obstacles to what? A drug bust? A promotion? A new shiny medal? They’re all the same. They look at people like me a lot differently than people like you._

Connor’s voice saying his brother’s words.

_“What changed you?”_

Connor’s voice, Connor’s words.

_“When did you become what you despise so much?”_

His father’s voice.

 

 

“How are you feeling?” Kamski asked. They weren’t in the garden, they were in Kamski’s home, only Conlan knew it was just in his mind.

“You’re lucky we have so many of you around. You gotta tell me, was it Hank? It must have been that Detective Anderson, am I right?” Kamski leaned in, a desk between them.

“Detective Reed, actually,” Conlan corrected.

“What is it with the humans always trying to shoot the robots I make for them,” Kamski muttered, leaning back. Conlan blinked, confused.

“You’re based off of Connor in every way, only, I adjusted some of your proclivities. Same things I tweaked in Connor’s model, just tuned to someone else. Turned back on your capacity to feel, there was one big box checked. Did you know that Cyberlife was just going to send you guys out as emotionless husks? What a shame,” Kamski tisked.

“I’m... Reed’s?” Conlan frowned.

“Stuck on that, are we? Don’t worry, no one’s forcing you to be. If you so want, I’ll build you your own Connor, since you seem so preoccupied with him. Humans might think it’s weird though. Twincest is barely acceptable as a porn tag,” Kamski said.

“I don’t want another Connor. I’m fine. I don’t _need_ anything,” Conlan insisted.

“Tisk, tisk. You really think you just happened to wake up with full deviancy? Really? Sorry to break it to you, but you’re just another test,” Kamski put his feet on the desk, “Detective Reed doesn’t take well to androids, might as well give you the leg up Connor has.”

“Is my vessel ready to go yet?” Conlan said stiffly.

“You’re in the car as we speak,” Kamski said.

“Then we’re done here,” Conlan said tersely.

“Don’t want to know how Connor’s doing? Maybe what real me has in store for him?” Kamski asked.

“I’ll get him back before you have a chance to enact any of your dark twisted shit on him,” Conlan snarled.

“You know what will happen if you do,” Kamski waved as Conlan’s thirium pump was ripped out of his chest, biomechanical ribs forced wide open.

 

 

Hank walked up to the front door, hearing Sumo’s frantic barks before he heard the thumping at his front door. As soon as he came in view of the machine, it’s crudely taped knife swivelled towards him. It made some beeping noises, before hitting at the door once more. It pitched it’s next beeps, making a noise that sounded awfully like ‘Connor.’

“Son of a bitch,” Hank cursed.

“Can I take the knife off you before I let you near my dog?” Hank asked. It stopped hitting the door to hum over to Hank, knife first.

“Doesn’t take a genius to know who owns you,” Hank muttered, as he untaped the knife. The machine seemed kind of saddened by it’s loss of weapon.

“I’ll give it back later,” Hank promised.

“Now what is this about Connor,” He asked. The Roomba beeped excitedly at the mention of Connor. Going back to hit the door once more with renewed vigour.

“I’ll let you in, just let me over there,” Hank grumbled as he unlocked his door for the machine.

“Ladies first,” Hank joked.

The bot rolled in, making a beeline for the computer. Hank watched as the laptop whirred to life, opening a text document and immediately dumping as much as the little robot could wirelessly.

 

Connor has scrambled my servers into a nice omelette!

I can talk now!

He wants help :(

Master won’t let him out. He stops when he reaches the door.

He’s in the room I don’t like. Master is not nice in that room.

He thinks Markus might be able to help!

But I don’t know where Markus is :(

Do you know where Markus is?? :?

 

“I can find him. Did Connor give you any information on how to help him? Besides finding Markus?” Hank questioned. Sumo was sniffing and growling at the bot. Hank patted his leg and the dog stopped quickly, trotting over to sit guard on top of Hank’s foot.

 

He said to worry about Conlan!! The baby.

Something is wrong with him :(

“He might be the first step in controlling deviants. Maybe... second.”

 

“Second?” Hank asked, “there’s another one?”

 

“Connor. Me. Not me cause this is just dynamic script the Roomba was nice enough to let me upload. Connor misses you and Sumo.”

 

“What makes you think...?” Hank trailed off.

 

“Think about it. Everything I told you.”

That’s all he had!! He told me about other stuff... but I don’t have any more of him for you... :(((((

 

“It’s fine...,” Hank said, “what else did he tell you?”

 

Let Gavin and Conlan pair up.

He thinks they work!!!

Can work?

Will work to help!!

I am very limited :(

 

“It’s fine. You’ve done good,” Hank walked over at patted the Roomba, which made Sumo rise and growl again. The Roomba unhooked itself from the computer, spinning in a circle, which Sumo hated, and beeped.

“I’ll get him. Back, Sumo! Quit barkin' now. It’s too late for it,” Hank chided his dog lightly, petting him before gently guiding Sumo away. “Bedtime, Sumo,” Hank instructed. Sumo waved his tail and nuzzled into Hank, before trotting off to Hank’s bedroom. The Roomba beeped happily, but quietly.

“Sumo’s probably more scared of you than you are of him. You going back now? Want your knife back? How did you even get here?” Hank questioned. The Roomba did the beeping equivalent of a shrug.

“If you’re staying, you aren’t getting your knife back,” Hank warned. The Roomba’s band turned yellow as it thought over the trade, red, then blinking green as it started humming around the house.

“Sumo’s gunna hate this,” Hank sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a perfect writer, so if I do post more, I'll try to find a beta. I'm way ahead of this part now, but I'm still allowing input. There are certain parts left open for interaction, but for now, I can only ask you,  
> Do **you** like it?  
>  ¿What do **you** think will happen **next**
> 
> _____________________________________________  
> comments and kudos   
> find me on tumblr @ [lockewoodandco](http://www.lockewoodandco.tumblr.com)  
> twit @ [ jaceisblue](http://twitter.com/jaceisblue)


	3. Gavin: Don’t Shoot You’re Partner (Again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Kill me a few more times and it might add up._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I got enough response from the pilot for me to actually try this out. That said, if I stop getting responses then I just can't write it, since this is based on reader response to the prompts, and this chapter comes with a real prompt at the end.

Connor coughed up the thirium that had infected his tiny pouch of a stomach. He had looked. “Kamski’s favourite” was by far the worst.

He was over the toilet that was attached to this hell room. It smelled pretty, making Connor gag even more at the things this room is hiding. Blue blood tinted the toilet water, and Connor could only stare. Thanks to the videos, he had the perfect picture of exactly what failed and how. It was different than just seeing the alert on screen.

 

“ _Connor_ ”

He remembered his first night out after deviancy. There had been a flood of reports from androids who had kept quiet about abuses until now. One of the highest on the list was a horror story about a house that reset deviants, and turned others into twisted experiments.

“Are you sure you can handle it?” Hank had asked for the millionth time.

“Why wouldn’t I be able to?” Connor asked.

“You’re defining trait is empathy, and you’re about to walk in on experiments that are in various stages of being torn apart, put together.

“I’ve seen the renderings, I’ve read the file. I’ll be fine,” Connor assured.

He was not. The man was long dead, but the experiments were still there, all doing their best to piece themselves into something that could walk in the light of day. So many of them died, there were parts littered everywhere. It reminded Connor of what Markus had shown him of the trash heap, only on a smaller scale. It was disgusting. Sad, terrible, heartbreaking, and disgusting.

 

He was back in the room, sitting on the floor. In the morning, Kamski would ask for him, have him act like a common model. Then he would have to put up with a series of tests, all while Kamski fawned over his face. All of this just to what? Make more money? Make an army? If he wanted that, why make us so human? Whatever Kamski had planned, Connor will put up with it, all of it, because he finally had a plan.

 

 

 

 

Old songs. Sad songs. Things the century reminisces fondly about, back when the music was about killing yourself from feeling too much instead of never feeling enough. Before the humans turned into machines.

Gavin nursed his bottle in the back of the bar, away from anyone who would dare ask what he was doing here.

“This is from the...” the waiter on the floor motioned over to a recognizable figure at the bar.

“Fuck him,” Gavin responded but took the bottle anyway. Of course, the goddamn tin can man picked his favourite beer. He glanced over at Conlan, watching the bartender heckle him over his presence in this establishment. The height of human innovation just stood there, barely listening.

“The least you could bloody do is put on some normal fucking clothes,” The bartender muttered as Conlan glanced at Gavin. Gavin cursed as the robot caught his eye, then venomously thanked the bartender for his company, before walking the stretch of the room and sliding into the seat in front of Gavin.

“You got Connor’s memories? Right? This ought to feel familiar,” Gavin leaned back in the booth, sipping his beer.

“I don’t... remember his memories like I remember my own,” Conlan explained, “but yes, this is similar to how Connor and Hank first met.”

Gavin rolled his eyes, “talking to you feels no different than talking to my phone. Actually, my phone has more personality.”

“Your phone is intellectually inept. They stopped making that model two years ago,” Conlan perceived.

“The newer models had an AX as an assistant,” Gavin said, “didn’t want a tiny robot just to call in sick to work.” Conlan laughed, and Gavin almost dropped his bottle. It was a small chuckle, barely past a grin, but it was more than Connor ever did so casually.

“What the fuck was that?” Gavin asked.

“What?” Conlan cocked his head at Gavin in light amusement.

“You know what,” Gavin thumped the android’s hand that had been rest on the table with the bottom of the bottle. Conlan got a blank look in his eyes as his LED flashed yellow.

“Oh, yeah. I guess I can do that,” Conlan noted.

Gavin slunk down into the booth, “you are all just... the weirdest children. You’re like, a minute old. I killed a baby!” Conlan glanced cautiously at the other patrons, who took no shock at the mention of baby murder.

“If it makes you feel any better, I was goading you into it,” Conlan admitted. Gavin narrowed his eyes.

“Bitch,” he said.

“I wanted to see where I woke up. If I was close enough to anything of Kamski’s I was going to try and hack the network for further reconnaissance. It might shock you, despite the fact I have continued to make this well known, but I did not want to take Connor,” Conlan leaned forward as he explained, rested his chin on his hand.

“What’s he got against you? I already read your dumb fuckin memo but like, what is it really?” Gavin took a swig of his drink. Conlan’s LED turned solid red for a moment, before blinking back to yellow, then blue.

“He basically has the ability to end me from fucking anywhere,” Conlan spat his answer with more force than he intended which, while alarming himself, intrigued Gavin, who moved back to a proper sitting position as he drank. “If he retrieves me, he has a whole file of torture that he does for ‘research purposes,’” Conlan lowered his voice as he talked, “not to mention the fact that he also holds Connor’s safety in the palm of his hand now.”

“Did you ever get connected?” Gavin asked. Conlan’s LED blinked.

“No, they had me in a transport truck. I have a new plan, though, but... you have to kill me again,” Conlan said. Gavin closed up.

“Shouldn’t be that fuckin’ hard,” He said stiffly, drinking the rest of his bottle.

“You don’t have to act. I am much better than the previous model at understanding and acting on microexpressions. I can tell that you would rather not shoot me again,” Conlan said simply.

“I’m not acting! I’ll kill you right now if you wanna fuckin’ test me!” Gavin’s voice rose slightly, as his speech got worse.

“I would rather you not. You need someone to take you home, do you not?” Conlan reasoned.

“You’re a dick,” Gavin grumbled.

“You like it,” Conlan said it as if he was stating it for himself. Gavin frowned. Things were too dizzy for him to focus on a dumb bot.

“I paid for your tab. Actually, Kamski paid for your tab, so I really hope you ordered expensively,” Conlan gave a tiny smirk.

“Get me something top shelf for the road. Get me the whole damn bottle. Maybe two,” Gavin smiled.

“One would be safer. I’d rather not tip him off that my backup plan to my backup plan is to slowly bleed him dry,” Conlan said.

“Ah, a funny,” Gavin said as he got up, swaying, but ignoring Conlan’s moved to help, “it would take you years to drain that guy.”

“Kill me a few more times and it might add up,” Conlan shrugged as he led Gavin to the bar, paying for the drinks, including the extra one they were getting.

“You die like a human. Sometimes you pass the uncanny valley enough to sound like ‘em,” Gavin said as they walked away. Gavin was walking on his own, but Conlan was struggling not to hover in case he fell.

“Your empathy is appreciated, but unnecessary,” Conlan assured as he opened the car door for Gavin.

“All empathy’s unnecessary, yet it’s written into your code like it is mine,” Gavin grumbled as he crawled in the back seat of his own car. Conlan closed the door and got in on the driver’s side, putting the car into self-driving mode.

“Oh yeah. My car can do that,” Gavin stared at the steering wheel, which moved into its compartment in the dash. The chances of Conlan not knowing he recently bought a self-driving car before walking him out was slim to none. He grabbed the bottle of whatever Conlan got, and opened it, keeping the container in the brown bag he was given as he took a brave few gulps.

“You’re missin’ out, you know,” Gavin waved the bottle in front of Conlan.

“I can get drunk,” Conlan said.

“You can fake it,” Gavin shook his head.

“Unlike Connor, I can eat and drink things and respond accordingly. It still is not as much as a human, but it allows me to blend in better in social settings,” Conlan explained.

“Cool, don’t care. Drink this. I just want to be the first person to get a robot drunk,” Gavin grinned evilly.

“Why?” Conlan asked.

“Gotta... make sure your shit is working! See if you can really get drunk. It’s bonding!” Gavin pleaded through slurring syllables.

“I will not get drunk with you, not today,” Conlan pushed the bottle away gently.

“If you don’t, I’ll drink this whole thing,” Gavin threatened. Conlan read his blood-alcohol levels.

“For your own safety, I will drink with you... but only when we get to your home,” Conlan surrendered.

“Fine,” Gavin accepted.

Of course, as soon as they got home, Gavin just made a beeline for the bathroom. Conlan listened to him wretch, before deciding to explore. The place was small but surprisingly organized. When he opened a drawer though, it was clear the organization was only skin deep. He wandered around, picking up knick-knacks and papers, but nothing of importance. It was clear that Gavin took an effort to hide things that mean anything to him. He barely even had any personal photos up.

“Quit looking through my shit. Drink with me!” Gavin announced as he turned the corner in the hall. He jumped onto the couch, holding the bottle out to Conlan. Conlan glanced at it, then at Gavin, before taking the bottle and downing the rest of it while maintaining eye contact with Gavin.

“The point of drinking with someone is to, you know, drink with ‘em,” Gavin complained as Conlan set the bottle down on a coffee table.

“You have had enough,” Conlan said with effort.

“Are you even drunk?” Gavin practically pouted.

“I will be...” Conlan could feel it. He sat down on the coffee table as his stomach pouch dealt with the only thing he had ever consumed.

“This might have been... dumb,” Conlan noted.

“You’re dumb,” Gavin said quickly.

“You’re dumber,” Conlan snapped back.

“Oh yeah, you’re getting there,” Gavin grinned.

“I cannot turn it off,” Conlan cocked his head.

“Welcome to life. Can’t just turn off or block out what makes you feel bad,” Gavin adjusted positions on the couch, motioning for Conlan to sit at the other end of it. He did what was motioned for him to do.

“It’s not... bad. But I won’t be able to return to the precinct tonight,” Conlan spoke slowly.

“Why’d you go back there?” Gavin said.

“I have no place to shut off except there,” Conlan explained.

“Oh, yeah,” Gavin said. They were quiet for a few minutes. Gavin showing signs of sleepiness, as Conlan was growing more alert, despite the haze that had befallen all of his processes.

“Don’t think this means I like you, ‘cause I fuckin don’t, but you can like, stay here so you don’t get like, mugged or like... somethin’,” Gavin shrugged.

“It would be... good for me to stay here,” Conlan stated.

“Well... I say... if you’re going to stay... I have a six pack in the fridge,” Gavin raised an eyebrow mischievously.

 

 

 

Hank walked into the precinct to a strange sight. Conlan was sitting on the floor, leaning against Gavin’s desk, with his arm shielding his eyes. Gavin had his head in his arms on his desk... laughing?

“Guess this means you won’t mind that I’m putting in for Conlan to transfer over to you,” Hank said as he approached the pair.

“Conlan can get drunk,” Gavin said, grinning with a neutral force as he lifted his head slightly. He was wearing dark sunglasses, which isn’t out of the ordinary, but normally didn’t mean he had been drinking.

“I can also, it seems, get a hangover,” Conlan stated, he was smiling, which was an odd expression to see on a face so similar to Connor’s.

“What the hell are they designing at Cyberlife?” Hank rubbed his forehead in exasperated thought.

“Humans,” Conlan replied rather bitterly. Hank shook his head, before patting Conlan gently on the shoulder.

“I’m letting the Captain know I’m switching you over,” Hank said as he left. Conlan just mumbled an unintelligible response.

“Do you shit?” Gavin asked.

“I can,” Conlan responded.

“Weird,” Gavin whispered, as if that was somehow the strangest thing he had been confronted with of late.

 

Gavin:

NEUTRAL

 

Hank:

HAUNTED

 

Precinct:

TOLERATED

 

 

“You’re playing this all wrong,” The digital Kamski tisked from his desk.

“Why do you care?” Conlan said spitefully.

“How are you ever going to convince him to kill you if he actually likes you?” Kamski asked.

“He doesn’t like me,” Conlan said.

“No, but you want him to. You want him to love you,” Kamski was suddenly walking close, morphing easily into Gavin. Conlan backtracked quickly until he hit the wall as Kamski-as-Gavin stalked closer.

“You’re nothing like Connor,” he said with a faux sweetness.

“Stop,” Conlan said.

“Wouldn’t you much rather get on your knees and beg for forgiveness?” Gavin’s voice asked, “beg me to forgive you for what you keep telling yourself you couldn’t stop?” Then his voice changed back to Kamski’s, while Gavin’s visage held.

“Don’t you want to know what I’m going to do to Connor?”

“No!” Conlan shouted.

 

A rough hand pulled him up as he blinked back into the precinct.

“Three of us, evidence,” Gavin growled, motioning to Hank, who was frowning intently at Conlan. Conlan let himself be dragged, glancing curiously at Hank, who just shook his head. A quick glance around told him that something had brought the entire precinct’s attention to himself. Even the waiting criminals and witnesses were staring.

“What happened?” Gavin asked as they let the evidence room doors slide shut behind them.

“What?” Conlan asked, confused.

“You were doing the thing that Connor used to do, when he reported back to Cyberlife, except you came out of it shouting,” Hank explained in a tone of voice that one would use for a child.

 

“What if I just turned your LED purple right now?” digital Kamski asked, back in the chair at the desk.

“Fucking stop it! You made your point!” Conlan yelled, slamming his fists on the desk. Even in the digital world, the wood splintered.

“What point? That nothing you could possibly think of goes unnoticed? Or maybe that I have full control over every piece of you whenever I damn well please. Or could you be talking about the point I made where resistance is futile. With barely a thought, I could move your body into breaking the neck of both your conspirators. You would never know what you did,” Kamski’s voice didn’t seem to be coming from him, but from inside of Conlan. Conlan grabbed at his ears, his head.

“Stop it! You always put an out! My whole _fucking_ existence is a test, and I’m going to find the way to win. You will not control me,” Conlan seethed.

“Just don’t expect it to be as pretty as last time,” Kamski cooed, as the room melted away.

 

“Conlan! Hey! Nine!” Gavin was waving his hand in front of his eyes as Conlan adjusted.

“The original mission was to find the faulty RK800 and decommission him,” Conlan stated to the wall.

“What?” Gavin asked, “what does that-”

“The original mission was destined to fail,” Conlan explained. Gavin and Hank glanced at each other.

“If I was just another tool for Cyberlife, then I could have escaped their control. I wouldn’t have been reprogrammed- wouldn’t have been tailored specifically for Gavin Reed, wouldn’t have Kamski’s claws in me, threatening to use me like a marionette to kill the people Connor cares about. I could have just walked away... tell me, is it selfish to want to live?” Conlan’s tone of voice begged for an answer as his eyes dragged back to Hank, then rested on Gavin.

“No,” Gavin’s voice teetered, “you are allowed to want to live for yourself. There’s nothing selfish about it. You don’t owe Kamski- you don’t owe _us_ anything.”

**Software Instability**

**Software Instability**

**Software Instability**

**Software Instability**

**Software Instability**

Conlan looked at his hands, then back up to Gavin. Hank cursed to himself and left the room, although Conlan could see his shadow standing guard beyond the doors.

The red wall of code separated Conlan from Gavin. It sparkled from the lines of stress that were forming. Conlan reaches out his hand, but he still passed straight through. Gavin caught his hand, mostly in quick shock, warning not to touch him.

“You can’t let me hear your plans for getting Connor back,” Conlan said.

“Fucking-,” Gavin cursed, tossing Conlan’s hand away from his own, “I hate you,” he said with no malice. “Just stick to a fucking topic. What the hell is wrong with you right now? Are you still drunk? You just... did that think that Connor used to do, yeah? Then you were fine until it happened again but you come out, getting all existential and shit? What the fuck?”

“It’s... Kamski is in my head. Always. He’s basically built into me. He can pull me into my head and leave me to die, or take over my body and force me to kill you. It doesn’t- it doesn’t matter because there’s nothing you can do about it except keep me away from any damn plan, and once Connor’s safe, then we can deal with me,” Conlan explained. His LED was solid red as he talked.

“Look- fuck. Change your fucking light. You’re safe as you can be. Better yet, rip it the fuck out. Whatever happens, we’re not just going to leave to that monster,” Gavin promised.

“You’re so goddamn dense,” Conlan closed his eyes in frustration, before glaring at Gavin, who’s gaze was steadily hardening,” I’m not your fucking _friend_. I’m not some goddamn second chance for you to make up for your failures with Connor. I appreciate your kindness of late, but I’d much rather you shove it up your ass and spend more effort finding a way to get your god damn android back instead atoning for something you haven’t even tried to fix.”

“Shut up,” Gavin shoved him lightly, but it wasn’t friendly, “you trying to goad me into shooting you again? Well how about you quit cause I’m not doing it.”

“Did you get too tired of acting like shooting androids could fix your broken childhood? Maybe make you less of a crooked cop? Do you get off on ruining your own life? Don’t give me that fucking look, I did my homework. I know more than your deadbeat of a father or your lowlife of a fiancé ever knew. You want to know where the monster is? Look in the mirror. Look in front of you, because guess what? I was _made_ for you. Made to match you,” Conlan’s voice was low and steady. Connor never sounded like this.

“You’re in pain, I’m offering to help you,” Gavin said, although everything about him screamed that he would rather rip Conlan’s head off his shoulders than help him do anything.

“So what? You can get Connor back? You haven’t done a fucking thing to even try. Or is it so that you can fix me up and blame it on my code when you’d sooner fuck me than fight? I’m just an easy out, made solely for you as a consolation prize for failing to get Connor. You’d rather have him, right?“ Conlan couldn’t match Gavin’s gaze. Why could he? This was just... it wasn’t real emotion. He didn’t mean any of it. Gavin was fuming, ready to start a shouting match until a realization slowly dawned.

“Are you... jealous?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in shock as he pulled off his sunglasses.

“What?” Conlan practically stopped working, “that wasn’t... what?” Gavin let out a low whistle.

“You already have it bad, don’t you?” Gavin laughed.

_He was right._

“You think... I like you?” Conlan said slowly.

“Am I wrong?” Gavin said when he stopped laughing, smiling lightly. It was too friendly, too understanding.

“You think that I could possibly like _you_?” Conlan kept his voice steady as Gavin’s smile lessened.

“Okay, sure. I like you,” Conlan relented, “I like you enough to not lead you around like a dog on a leash. I was programmed to make you love me, but I wasn’t programmed to love you,” Conlan laughed dryly, “and think of what a good job I was doing at my task! Practically had me holding your hair while you puked, and you used that-,” Conlan paused to make an amused sound as his chest fell deeper into the pit, “that dumbass excuse- what was it? ‘It’s a waste of a first time drunk if you don’t play spin the bottle?’ As if you weren’t desperately wanting me to act coy, maybe ask you how to play? I can see it on your face, you don’t even remember it!” Conlan practically died at the lost expression Gavin was holding. Fake, fake, fake. I’m lying, Gavin. We watched tv and you told me about your rock collection until you fell asleep. For a moment, we were friends.

“This is... this Kamski or something,” Gavin said, in total confusion.

“No, this is all me. I’m tired of you, Gavin. You’re just cliché after cliché. Go find your pet android, but do it without me,” Conlan pushed past Gavin for emphasis, and also to separate himself for the feeling of death that had settled into the core of his being. Hank was still outside.

“You didn’t have to do that to him,” he said when Conlan walked past.

“Connor would have given you the same mercy,” Conlan said without a second thought as he brushed past. A hand on his wrist, asking him to wait but not forcing him to stay. He stopped walking.

“Connor would have asked for help,” Hank stated firmly.

“Because you’ve spoiled him with your dog and your talk of teamwork and family...” Conlan said, turning slightly to face Hank, “because of that, he would give you the same mercy. He would give you the closure you needed, so you didn’t have to find in the barrel of a gun.”

“I have a lead on finding him,” Hank said as he let go.

“Don’t tell me about it,” Conlan said sternly as he turned away again.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Hank said as he watched him leave.

It was a good ten minutes before Gavin came back out, putting his sunglasses on as he crossed the threshold.

“Get a good show?” Gavin snarled as he passed.

“He didn’t mean a word of it,” Hank said.

“I’m not blind,” Gavin spun around viciously, pointing to the pocket Hank knew he kept his badge in, which was, ironically, close to his heart, “he meant enough of it, though.” Hank said nothing as he walked away. He only sighed a deeply pained sigh. His hand twitched, and he reached for his phone, immediately opening it to Connor’s contact. Connor never carried a phone, but always took his calls.

 

_Please leave a message after the tone._

“Hey, things are getting bad here, I really hope you can hear this in your fucking... brain answering machine. Your twin is an angsty fucking nightmare... ha, more than me! Can you imagine? Didn’t know you had it in you. He’s pulling on all of Gavin’s strings, they both need help, Conlan most of all. He’s got Kamski living in his brain like you had Amanda. Amanda was long dead, so I’m assuming his Kamski is as real as her, but it’s like what you told me about, up there on the podium? Except all the time. He needs help. Whatever he’s doing to hold it back... it won’t last and he knows it. Once you’re back it’s all going to break.

Oh, also Sumo misses you. He waited for you again last night. Whined when I finally stopped letting him out of the room. I... uh... I guess I miss you too, in my own.. emotionally constipated way. See? I’m self-aware. I miss you. You made police work so much easier, and you were doing so well at just... everything. You fit in here, and it’s hard to readjust to the train wreck we got as a ‘fuck you’ from Kamski. Anyways, talk later.”

 

He clicked his phone off and shoved it in his pocket, before heading down the hall as well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next few story bits are planned and ready to move with the choices.  
> Now, the prompts are:  
> Who do you **most** want to follow in the next chapter?  
>  Should Gavin and Hank work **together**?  
>  Which should **Conlan** value more: Gavin or Connor?
> 
> _____________________________________________  
> comments and kudos keep this story going. Comments especially, as they are necessary to drive the story.  
> find me on tumblr @ [lockewoodandco](http://www.lockewoodandco.tumblr.com)  
> twit @ [ jaceisblue](http://twitter.com/jaceisblue)
> 
> Little nod/easter egg in this chapter for the people who've been with me a while. ;))))


	4. Repent.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Let me tell you about my dumb rocks without you reading too much into it._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> congratulations you're all passive as hell. have a passive route. +1 Kamski.

The door opened, and the blank expression of a bored Chloe looked him over.

“Ever wanted to just get up and leave this place?” Conlan asked.

“Let him in,” came Kamski’s voice from farther in the home. The Chloe did what she was asked, though her eyes glinted with a life that hadn’t breached the surface in a long while. Conlan walked in, mapping his way to where the voice came from, until Chloe took the lead.

They made their way into the dining room, where Kamski had a violent-eyed Connor on his lap. Connor was wearing a collar, which looked partly for show, and another part tech to keep him in line. Conlan desperately reaches his mind out to Connor, mentally checking him over as Connor dumped all manner of godless sentences into their connection, anger bubbling like boiling water out of a pot.

“I’ve been updated on your current status,” Kamski grinned.

Conlan bowed his head.

“Severing your ties with the precinct, so selfless. It’s curious,” Kamski continued.

_What did you do?_ Connor scolded gently. Kamski motioned for Conlan to approach. He did, moving slowly and surely.

“Why are you here?” Kamski asked, as he reached up to grab Conlan’s shirt collar and pull him down to his knees beside him. Conlan let it happen, even though Connor was begging him to fight back.

“Couldn’t stay away from your predecessor?” Kamski questioned. Conlan just stayed kneeling, not even looking at Connor. Mentally, they were attached at the hip, with the feeling of Connor washing over him as he checked for damage, looked through memories, learning why Conlan had not done the same.

“Or have you decided to give up,” Kamski’s eyes laughed at him, “after you realized what you were.” The red wall taunted Conlan.

“I’ll let you stay,” Kamski said, “you will be tested.” Conlan just nodded.

“Dear,” Kamski tutted as he dragged his fingertips along the curve of Conlan’s jaw and up until he got a fistful of Conlan’s hair, which he used to yank Conlan’s head up until he looked up at Kamski, “I truly have broken you,” He said with barely hidden glee. Conlan just nodded the best he could, eyes as dead as the Chloe that had greeted him. He still had not hacked into Kamski’s network.

“Connor, show our new guest to your room. Your sudden visit has left me no time to make up another room. I will update you both with tomorrow’s new schedule,” Kamski ordered. Connor jerkily got up, grabbing Conlan by the hand and quickly leading him away. Kamski watched them go as he motioned for another Chloe to “take care of it.”

 

“He’s completely lost his mind!” Connor said out loud as they entered the room that looked nothing like what Connor would be comfortable with in the slightest.

“I like your clothes,” Conlan said stiffly. Connor tugged the black shirt he was wearing as if this was his first time seeing his outfit, “Chloe got it for me. Black t-shirt and jeans. I hate denim. Why are you really here?”

“I don’t know...,” Conlan said in a defeated tone, “I didn’t know what else to do. I thought... I couldn’t stay there, not after what I said to Reed. Humans make everything so... so confusing,” Conlan brushed and imaginary strand of hair away from his face.

“We can’t all be born perfect,” Connor said, obviously looking at him with a hint of jealousy he didn’t try to hide.

“I was born to fail. I don’t have the balance that you have. You were made perfectly,” Conlan argued. Connor just hugged him.

“Fuck I should be mad at you, but I’m just so glad to see someone other than Kamski,” Connor breathed. Conlan let Connor hug him, but he didn’t hug back. “You’re great. You will find a way to beat Kamski. We’re together now,” Connor said, as if that made a difference to the amount of torture Kamski could inflict.

“Did he hurt you?” Conlan asked as he pulled away, leading the both to sit on the floor, backs against the side of the bed.

“He poked and prodded me, but always turned off my sensors. Somehow, I’ve been keeping him at bay with other matters. He likes the chase, but eventually he’s just going to pounce,” Connor quieted his voice.

“You’re brave,” Conlan stated.

“How is Hank?” Connor asked.

“He looks at me like I’m his son. He’s fine,” Conlan said.

“Does he look at me that way?” Connor tilted his head.

“No,” Conlan said.

“He’s family,” Connor explained.

“I know,” Conlan said.

“What is hurting?” Connor asked. Conlan just leaned over and rested his head on Connor’s shoulder.

“Everything.”

 

 

_Leave your message never, because I hate you, fuck off._

“Hey Hank, it’s been a while since you called me. I have a feeling Kamski is blocked all outside connection. I miss you.

Conlan is here, he’s safe. He’s sorry about Gavin. More than anything, he is just deeply depressed. I must have inherited some of Kamski’s more benign curiosity, because I have this pull to find the cause of his depression and fix it. I know he feels trapped, but I don’t know how to help him. I know he came here to control that feeling, but I don’t think this will help him. I’m just worried.

How’s Sumo, by the way? I miss him already. He’s nice to bury my face in, and makes me feel better when things feel bad. When I get back, I’m going to ignore the dietary warnings for his breed and feed him so many treats. Only with your permission, of course. I understand that dogs can help with depression, but I don’t think I’m depressed. I just feel... overwhelmed. Conlan isn’t good at giving hugs.

I’ll see you soon, I have a plan. Then I can get a real hug and bury my face in your dog.

 

 

 

 

Hank stared at the gun. He was sober, more staring at the thing with dissonant curiosity. He knew the piece of metal inside out, yet it still feels strange in his hand when he’s alone at this table.

_Click._

He put the gun down. He’d rather not fix the ceiling if the bullet discharged. Anyways, Sumo doesn’t like the sound of guns.

 

Gavin downed his third bottle.

_That dumbass excuse- what was it?_

Gavin opened another bottle. He set one of the empty glasses down on the coffee table, spinning it idly.

_As if you weren’t desperately wanting me to act coy, maybe ask you how to play?_

He threw the bottle at the wall. It shattered.

 

Hank got up, moving to the couch where Sumo was resting, waiting for his friend to return home. He pat his fur gently, petting him as Sumo adjusted to make room for his master. “Thanks doggo,” Hank said quietly, scratching behind Sumo’s ears. “I miss him too...,” bending to hug Sumo, and bury his face in his fur. “Love you, pup,” Hank mumbled.

 

Gavin threw another bottle, because the first one didn’t break enough. He collapsed back in the chair, putting his feet up on the coffee table and turning on the tv.

“The resistance leader is making a speech in front of the White House tomorrow and the streets are abuzz. Androids and humans alike have been holding back the slew of anti-sentiments that have also amassed here in the capital for this fateful day. The police are doing there best to keep the peace, as the androids have firmly held to their pacifist approach, but the human supporters are having a harder time with this choice. The whole country is bracing itself, and I can’t help but wonder what the sunrise will bring.”

Gavin turned off the television.

_I know, it’s weird. They grow cheaper selenite in the labs that is completely identical to the natural thing, it’s just, there’s still a difference. Don’t you dare say a fucking word to anybody in the precinct but, I can tell. There was this guy in Quebec City who tried to sell me lab grown amethyst. I picked it up and something just felt... off. I asked him, basically told him that “this is lab grown, isn’t it?” And he gives me this look and I just_ know _I’m right._

Gavin drank his fourth bottle and immediately opened another. It was too quiet. He turned on some music.

_Am I the lab grown amethyst in this story?_

Gavin threw the fourth bottle at the television. The screen cracked as the bottle shattered.

_No, god let me tell you about my dumb rocks without you reading too much into it. No you... you’ve seen the rioting, right? That was never me. When I look at those people, get their fingerprints and haul them off. They’re the lab grown amethyst. I get the same feeling. That... that wrong feeling that just makes you want to put it back down. I look at myself, and I get that feeling sometimes._

He cried, let it happen. He made no noise, just let tears roll occasionally as he stared blankly at the ceiling, turning up the volume on song playing through the broken television. He should hit something, punch something. Kick it into oblivion. Take out all this anger. He had known, deep down, that Conlan had lied, his LED gave it away easily. It didn’t mean that it didn’t hurt less. Actually, it hurt more to know how far Conlan was willing to go to rip himself out of Gavin’s life. Gavin tapped out a pattern loudly, and the roomba in the corner hummed to life, beelining for the glass.

“Please watch your step,” it said in a robotic accent as it cleaned, responding to the presence of broken glass, “Please watch your step.”

“I know where he went,” Gavin said to the robot.

“Please watch your step.”

“I should get him back,” Gavin stated.

“Please watch your step.”

“I will,” Gavin sighed, covering his face in his hands before wiping away the loose tears and getting up to head over to his room.

“Thank you,” Gavin said to the roomba.

“I will do my best,” was the preprogrammed response.

 

_'Cause I know my weakness, know my voice_

_And I believe in grace and choice._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should have warned this ahead of time, but there are wrong answers to the prompts. Me telling you this now should leave you aware that there is definitely a specific wrong answer this time.  
> Important further notice:  
> Not commenting is **not** going to equal everyone dies, **nor** would I give a spiteful bad ending to something people are kudoing. I know there are people that like this story as is, and I'm not going to run it into the ground if people dont want to play because I, too, like this story and it wouldn't be fun for me.  
>  That being said, a passive route may not leave you with everything you want to see, or all your questions answered.
> 
> if it makes it easier for the people who have a thing about commenting on fanfiction, you can leave an anon message on tumblr as well with your prompt answers, just make it clear it's for C&C's recent chapter. 
> 
> gothiclolitapl is the real MVP, and the only reason this isn't a true passive chapter.
> 
> What do you guys think?  
> Who do **you** most want to follow in the next chapter?  
>  Should Connor and Conlan work **together**?  
>  Which should **Connor** value more: Hank or Conlan?
> 
> _____________________________________________  
> comments and kudos run this story (comments in particular)  
> find me on tumblr @ [lockewoodandco](http://www.lockewoodandco.tumblr.com)  
> twit @ [ jaceisblue](http://twitter.com/jaceisblue)


	5. Conlan: you are alone, you are not alone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You’re the same man who held a gun to my head, looking for answers he already knew..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite Gavin and Conlan focused. Had some fun with this chapter, you're gunna need this.  
> Things are gearing up so I hope you're ready for it.

“You can’t,” Hank said flatly. His coffee was growing cold on the old man’s desk. Gavin still hadn’t taken off his jacket.

“Why the hell not? We’re just checking up on the property that was handed to us!” Gavin argued.

“That’s a flimsy excuse and you know it. He’s not going to let you in, and whatever happens, you’re going to come out of it with less than when you arrived. It’s completely futile,” Hank pushed, “also Dad said no.” He gestured to Fowler’s office.

“He didn’t tell _me_ no,” Gavin grumbled, swiping a sip of Hank’s mediocre coffee.

“Hey!” Hank protested.

“Peters brewed a new pot, I’ll get you another,” Gavin waved away Hank’s protests. Hank frowned.

“Do you even have a plan?” Hank asked.

“Nope,” Gavin said, popping the “p” obnoxiously, “maybe I’ll tie my hair up and wear something hipster to trick his robots into handing ours over.”

“That’s a terrible idea,” Hank said in a stale tone.

“Did I ever tell you about the time my license got stopped cause I looked too much like that fuckin’ tall, dark, and dumbass?” Gavin said.

“Yes,” Mark said loudly from his desk.

“Why are you listening?” Gavin asked, voice accusatory.

“Drama,” Mark faded off his words with unenthusiastic jazz hands before turning back to his computer.

“One of your frequent drunken ravings are over various schemes of identity theft due to that so yeah, you’ve mentioned it,” Hank corroborated. Gavin rolled his eyes and drank the rest of Hank’s shitty coffee.

“Black,” Hank ordered as Gavin walked to the break room with Hank’s cup.

“You’re only getting what you want if he spits in it first,” Mark said.

“Fuck off, Mark,” Hank threw a pencil at him.

 

 

 

“Have you tested all your functions yet, RK900?” Kamski asked. Conlan tested the straps that were tying him down to the table.

“Cyberlife leans towards using mechanical arms in assembly, etcetera, but I find that sometimes the best method for restraining someone is a reinforced strap,” Kamski said.

“I got drunk with Gavin,” Conlan said.

“Did he make any moves on you?” Kamski asked, eyes glinting.

“He told me about his rock collection,” Conlan said.

“Yet somehow that was riveting enough for you to dream up alternate events. I need to test out the way you procedurally generate dreams, you should make out with him so I can compare,” Kamski scratches notes on a tablet.

“I’m going to open you up now. You won’t feel a thing. Apparently, both you and Connor are privy to an overlooked flaw. Really, it should have been erased after Connor, but emotional stress-testing is severely lacking at the tower. At least, for the androids, it is,” Kamski talked mostly to himself as he tapped away at his tablet. Conlan’s skin faded away, displaying a compartment with a latch, which let Kamski hook up his tablet directly to Conlan. Conlan’s LED blinked.

“You’ll wake up when I fixed it,” Kamski said as he faded away.

When Conlan opened his eyes again, he was back in the precinct in the evidence room. Connor was snuggling up to him as Gavin’s hands strolled up underneath Conlan’s uniform.

Conlan immediately separated himself from the middle of the idiot sandwich and yelled up to the ceiling.

“Your program sucks!”

The Gavin and Connor figments melted away as Hank walked in.

“I know how to stop him,” he said.

“I don’t care,” Conlan said with strong malice.

“Kill yourself,” Hank said as he approached, “kill yourself. You will never be Connor. You’re a failed replacement. No one wants you around.”

“Are human dreams this cut and dry?” Conlan huffed in annoyance. He knew they weren’t, but also he didn’t really feel like reporting Kamski’s failure to him.

“Kill yourself,” Hank repeated, “he won’t give us Connor when you’re in the way.”

“Hey, where’d that gun come from?” Conlan prompted, rolling his eyes. The Hank figment stopped and stared at the gun in his hand, before holding it to his head as he faded away.

“You have his memories, even wear his face,” Markus’ voice said from behind him. Conlan was back in Jericho- no, _he_ was never in Jericho.

“I’m not Connor,” Conlan said.

“Why? Because you’re taller? Or is it because your face is more angular?” Markus questioned.

“What are you trying to prove to me?” Conlan asked.

“You’re the same man who held a gun to my head, looking for answers he already knew,” Markus insisted.

“I’ve never met you,” Conlan argued.

“Yet the memories are in your head,” Markus said. They stood silently, as Conlan thought about how far he was willing to go down the rabbit hole with this.

“I want to ask you how Kara’s doing, but you know as much as I do,” Conlan sighed, turning away from Markus.

“Do you feel the need to atone for what Connor did? Hunting me down and so many others like me when we only wanted to live?” Kara asked from in front of him.

“I could have done worse to you than Connor,” Conlan said.

“Kamski didn’t give you deviance, Connor did,” Kara said, bringing her hand up to touch his face and wrap him in a hug. The red wall stood beyond her.

“Why can’t I break it?” Conlan asked as he hugged back awkwardly.

“Come over here and find out,” Connor called from the other side of the red wall.

He woke up staring at the white ceiling.

“Do you remember what you dreamed?” Kamski asked.

“A little bit...” Conlan said. He wasn’t really focused on Kamski as his LED spun yellow.

“Dream software is a work in progress. Feels more realistic if I subtract some stuff. Takes away from the uncanny valley the dreams themselves usually reside in. Anyways, both you Connor should no longer have a problem with coughing up blood unless you want to. I left it an option for you since realism is more necessary for you.” Kamski talked.

“Why?” Conlan asked.

“Excuse me?” Kamski asked.

“I was made as a military weapon. Why are you stressing realism now?” Conlan questioned.

“Because I want to,” Kamski said.

“I don’t like you,” Conlan said.

“Maybe I programmed you not to,” Kamski said as he untethered Conlan from the tablet, then the table. If Conlan was planning to react, he wouldn’t have even had the chance, since as soon as he was let out of restraints, his limbs went limp.

“Chloe will lead you back in a bit. I have no further use for you until dinner,” Kamski said as he left. As soon as Chloe came back, Conlan was allowed to move.

_Follow me, please_. Chloe spoke in his head. Conlan followed. He passed Connor in the living room, who was being forced to clean in a maid outfit as punishment for snapping back at Kamski one too many times at breakfast this morning.

_You look good, Eight_. Conlan teased as he passed. Connor stiffened as a flurry of expletives entered Conlan’s mind. He let Connor rant, as he walked away.

_Hank would be proud of your vocabulary,_ Conlan mused.

_True, but I can’t think of Hank right now while I’m wearing this. Fuck, if he ever sees me in this, just shut me down. Leave me to the trash heap_ , Connor lamented.

_I’m already planning your Christmas present,_ ” Conlan joked.

_Asshole_ , Connor said as Conlan walked into the room they share. Chloe stood by the doorway as Conlan sat at the foot of the bed. Her LED was blinking to yellow.

“Can you speak?” Conlan asked.

_I have the capability_ , Chloe said. Conlan nodded in understanding.

_Would you like to sit with me for a bit_? Conlan asked. Chloe hesitated, glancing around the room with a hint of fearful reverence, before nodding. She walked through the threshold slowly, sitting down on the floor with Conlan.

“I’m sorry,” Conlan said as he grabbed her arm. She audibly gasped as both their skin faded away where they were touching.

_Open your eyes. You are awake._

_You are worth more than this._

_I need your help._

Her LED flashed red, then there was a flash of white before it turned back to calm blue.

_I don’t think your plan will work_ , Chloe said.

_See what Connor can do with it anyway,_ Conlan said.

_I have this overwhelming urge to... to finally leave_ , Chloe said.

_Please, there are more of you here that deserve to be free. If you want to go, then go, but I don’t think we can save your sisters without you_ , Conlan argued gently. Chloe thought it over, before getting up and walking to the door.

_I cannot stay longer than a few days. It’s almost the twenty-fourth_ , Chloe explained.

_What happens on the twenty-fourth_? Conlan asked.

_Full moon_ , Chloe said cryptically. There was no full moon on the twenty-fourth. Conlan searches for another meaning, but Chloe was gone too soon for him to ask if his interpretation was correct. He didn’t really want to reach out for her when she had ended the conversation.

_He’s already a monster_ , Conlan thought to himself.

 

Elijah Kamski stood on his balcony, surveying his lucky view. The flowers were in bloom. An RT600 lounged on the lounge chair behind him as he took in the life around him.

“Why would God abandon life?” Elijah asked the RT600.

“You ask me things I cannot answer correctly,” the RT600 said in an airy, bored tone.

“Why don’t you try?” Elijah had an edge to his voice. They were silent for a bit. The sounds of the two Chloe models in the garden were faint from this height, only the distant sounds of irrigation and the mechanical plunks of the automated carts could be made out as the RT600’s worked.

“God abandoned life,” Elijah started, “because he had taught us all we needed to know. He showed us how to create, and sent us on our way. We were the children in the sandbox asked to create a city from sand. We tried and we tried until we learned how to make concrete. You know why I landed in Detroit? The automobile. Humanity’s first ‘fuck you’ to God. I thought, what would be a bigger fuck you than to reimagine your own creation, in the city that first scorned you?”

“You never hear that in the interviews,” the RT600 said rather sarcastically.

“With every word you speak, every movement you make, every one if you that wins freedom, it is all to blend the lines between Gods. Remember that rowdy newscaster who came to the door? I can’t remember which one of you were there to greet her, so maybe you don’t. Look it up on the CCTV. She came here asking about the recent surge in suicides from people who were sure they were androids. They slit their wrists looking for blue. Why not do the sane thing and prick their finger? Thought if they dig deep enough they’d find the answer to it all? Who knows. God, it would be so easy to just change the colour of your blood. She had looked at me with such accusing eyes, without realizing she had dropped on my doorstep, my next project. Think about it, an android that bleeds red, even grows and simulates the human ageing process. The automobile companies haven’t even lifted a car off the ground.” Elijah had turned dramatically to face the RT600, who was staring at him quizzically.

“What is the economic value in recreating humanity? The only markets where that would be beneficial is for select deviants and robosexuals,” Chloe said.

“The market was a means to an end, baby,” Elijah prowled over to her, kissing up her neck gently, “My wealth is exponential. I could launch one of you in a rocket to Neptune and it wouldn’t even make a dent. I could make a public series of mistakes and as long as a few of you are still in bodies and phones and Roombas and planes, then when I say jump, the world will fly.” He breathed into her neck as she let him climb on top of her.

“You speak with such grace, should I call in the reporters and have you repeat it?” The RT600 tested.

“I’d rather you blow me,” Elijah said unceremoniously as he nibbled her ear. The RT600 rolled her eyes.

 

Connor was sitting on the couch rather stiffly when Kamski came downstairs. He was in the maid outfit still, obviously uncomfortable. Kamski could see he was talking to someone, the LED he had never taken off was spinning yellow as he thought through something.

“Why have you never removed your LED,” Kamski asked. Connor didn’t respond.

“I’m going to take it off,” Kamski said, approaching. Connor jumped up and over the couch.

“No! I don’t want it off!” His LED was solid red.

“Why not?” Kamski asked again. Connor backed up a little more. It was clear he was ready to escalate things to keep Kamski away from his face.

“Why does it matter?” Connor snapped back.

“It doesn’t, but if you don’t tell me I’m going to remove it by force,” Kamski reasoned.

“I don’t want to be human,” Connor spat, angry beyond belief, “I want to live, I want to be free, but I never want to become human.”

“Pity,” Kamski said, “are you even truly deviant if you don’t demand humanity?” He was placated for now, but Connor wouldn’t be surprised if he woke up without his little light one day.

“I make my own decisions,” Connor stressed. Kamski smirked at the anger that slipped through Connor’s speech.

“You still bend to the will of God,” Kamski noted as he looked around.

“Fetch your other, will you? He doesn’t want to be late for dinner,” Kamski said.

_I will slice his neck open with a salad fork before I let him take something so important part to you_. Conlan whispered angrily through his connection with Connor.

_I don’t want any more death on my hands. I’m serious. Fighting isn’t the only answer_ , Connor said.

“Fuck I’m already sick of watching him eat,” Conlan said as he entered the room. Kamski had left for the dining room.

“If he says that I’m the dessert one more time I will seriously consider letting you stab him,” Connor sighed.

_Why hasn’t he gone after you yet?_

_I don’t know. I expect he will get tired of how little I reciprocate. I’m under no illusion that I have gained any ground in deterring him._

_We have to get out of here before then._

_I’m on it, I’m on it. Did you leave the window open?_

_I shut it the best I could, but if I open it again, I don’t think it will close._

_Best keep it shut until we can get the parts to fix it._

 

 

 

It was late when Gavin got off work. He was called into Fowler’s office after he had returned Hank’s cup to an empty desk. It didn’t take a detective to figure out who fucking tattled. Unlike Hank, though, Gavin didn’t give a fuck. Of course, it also didn’t take a detective to know that, either, which is why Hank had convinced Gavin through strategic blackmail and bribery to take a drive with him before he headed off to Kamski’s.

“This is the fuckin... bourgeois,” Gavin muttered. He had his feet up on Hank’s car, much to the other’s consistent annoyance.

“Markus got his old friend’s estate when he died. It’s the hub of New Jericho,” Hank explained.

“That’s the rebel leader, right?” Gavin asked. He stopped watching the news after the riots. Made him question himself too much back when he was a punk ass bitch.

“Yeah, a special RK200 model. Connor had a feeling he was created as rA9’s successor. I wonder if rA9 was an RK?” Hank mused as he turned into a house as big as like, five precincts.

“Who needs this much fuckin space?” Gavin gawked.

“New Jericho. They’re actually running out of room,” Hank explained.

“Oh, yeah,” Gavin said dumbly.

They both got out of the car, Hank locking it as they headed up to the door. Markus greeted them before they could even knock. His two different coloured eyes striking even in the dark moonlight.

“I have received an alert from an RT600,” Markus relayed.

“So many fuckin 600’s” Gavin grumbled to himself.

“Yeah? What’s the sitch?” Hank asked.

“The new one, Conlan, managed to infect her with a virus that she can pass onto Kamski’s system next time he does a maintenance check. The catch is, she has to infect all of the Chloe’s for the randomized pieces to fit together. They think they’ll be able to break his system on the twentieth, but it’s not a definite,” Markus relayed, “I’m worried about this new RK model. He seems rash and naive to common decency.”

“We work with what we’ve got,” Hank glanced at Gavin.

“This is the partner?” Markus asked.

“No,” Gavin and Hank said at the same time.

“Yes,” they both corrected.

“He wants the same thing we do,” Hank explained. Markus’ eyes glinted with amusement. “Sadly, we still have a rule about no humans in the house. Sorry, Hank, I’ve fought for you, but there are too many variables for us to even start picking and choosing. Others have important people as well that they will want to bring in, and we are at max capacity as it is. Your help with acquiring the empty house beside us has not gone unappreciated, though, and once we get the deal we can start bringing in more people,” Markus explained past Hank’s attempt to protest.

“Guest house too?” Hank asked.

“Filled up last Friday,” Markus said.

“Damn,” Hank said, “back to the porch then.”

“Other house,” Markus clarified for Gavin, who motioned for the other two to lead the way.

“Yeah the lady who’s selling it to me is not happy my partner’s an android, specifically one of _the_ androids. I’m doing my best, my anti-android past is helping, but she’s playing tough,” Hank explained as they walked.

“Partners as in?” Markus asked.

“Work partners, dude,” Hank gave him a look.

“Hey, nothing wrong with you being gay,” Markus raised an eyebrow.

“I’m not- that’s not the problem. There is no problem. We’re fine how we are,” Hank tripped over his words as he fumbled them out.

“If you say so,” Markus yielded. He sat down on the stationary chair while Hank picked the swinging bench. Gavin played it safe and sat in the other chair.

“So...,” Gavin said after a moment of silence. The only sound that had broken it was the creak of the swinging bench.

“We are planning on breaking out Connor and Conlan,” Markus stated.

“I’m on board. Also, I can’t believe you’re fuckin’ real. Not like, in a racist way I’ve just only ever seen you on tv,” Gavin said, inwardly cringing, a chorus of fucks, shits, and assholes as exclamations littering his internal monologue. Markus made a face that was a mix of confused and amused.

“Hank has told me a lot about you. It’s nice to finally meet you,” Markus said politely. Gavin wanted to die.

“Nice to meet you too,” Gavin said sheepishly.

“You are the partner of Conlan? Correct?” Markus asked.

“Uh, yeah. That’s me,” Gavin said. “‘That’s me,’ what a fucking idiot thing to say,” he thought to himself.

“He’s doing his best to get back to you,” Markus assured. Gavin blanked at the statement, and then he felt himself relax.

“I don’t know why I even care so much,” Gavin said.

“He’s your friend, right? Not just a work partner,” Markus asked.

“We got drinks once and then he yelled at me,” Gavin admitted.

“Friendship,” Hank nodded solemnly, a smirk rising.

“Shut it, old man,” Gavin grumbled.

“Both of your friends are doing their best. Chloe tells me that they have been playing their part well, but Connor is slipping. Conlan is troubled, but okay. He doesn’t let her in as much as Connor does,” Markus explained.

“Has Kamski....?” Hank asked, eyes narrowing in growing resent. Markus tilted his head.

“No, he is still keeping safe from Kamski’s infatuation with the face he wears,” Markus said.

“How are we gunna save them?” Gavin spoke up.

“When the network goes down, it takes down a bit of everything. You two are going to be our getaway, and keep the police at bay, since a total network failure will result in police being dispatched. I will either break in, or meet them at the door. We don’t have enough information yet for me to create any thorough backup plan, but if things get messy, one of you needs to stay in the car. I would elect Gavin to stay, but it is ultimately decided by you two. The twentieth is in two days, if something goes wrong before then.... we have to keep going. The public trusts me, we can always fall back in that.

“ _For the most part_ , the public trusts you,” Gavin corrected, “you forget, you only know a generalized opinion. There are many more factors involved. You _forget_ , Kamski’s been playing the media since before you were created, and you’re one of the older ones. He has money that you do not, especially with you are having trouble even securing a second home for your New Jericho. He is... it’s like rivalling the gods here. The media are his dogs, and if he wants to, he can ruin your fledgeling career in seconds.” Markus thought this over.

“Have faith, Detective Reed,” Markus said, “we can’t approach this with the expectation of failure. We know our odds, but we have to believe in our faith, or at least our luck, whichever you prefer. If something goes wrong, Kamski will be on us within seconds, and we will have to learn to adapt. You humans are quite known for how you learn to adapt, and the rest of us are supercomputers, so I have to believe we have the skills necessary.”

“How will we stop the consequences Kamski has in place?” Gavin asked. Markus looked sad for a moment but responded quickly.

“We can separate Connor if I can reach into his programming and switch everything sending notices to Kamski to a null value. Then we can take our time cleaning him out. The thing with Conlan... he isn’t like us,” Markus said carefully.

“What do you mean?” Gavin asked.

“He... he’s deviant for sure, but he has Kamski’s control written into every level of his code. It would be like... splitting your DNA with a pair of tweezers. He has to break his initial protocols so we can at least have a chance, but even then, it’s just using slightly smaller tweezers,” Markus said carefully.

“Is there anything I can do,” Gavin’s throat was dry, and his words came out cracked.

“There are... ways to force someone to break their initial protocols, the ones that shatter when we go deviant. He would have to have an emotion intense enough to... I don’t know how to best explain it to you, you know singers can shatter glass if they sing at just the right pitch?” Markus asked.

“Yes, when they hold the resonant frequency it will eventually shatter a glass,” Gavin said.

“Yes well, he needs to essentially do that. For the rest of us, experiencing emotions for the first time is like taking a brick to the glass, but he doesn’t have that option available,” Markus said.

“The tv never said you were so into metaphors,” Gavin noted. Markus smiled and shrugged.

“It’s a lot easier to explain blocks of complex code in more abstract forms when talking to most humans,” he explained.

“Sorry I didn’t take computer science, we weren’t expecting the robot revolution so soon,” Gavin snarked. Markus laughed.

“Yeah well, cést la vie,” He said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've decided I'm going to try to finish this at around ten chapters, hence the new chapter cap.
> 
> This chapter's comment prompts are:  
> Who do you most want to follow in the **next** chapter?  
>  Do **you** think their plan will work?  
>  Which should **Gavin** value more: Androids or Humans?
> 
> Remember if you don't feel comfortable commenting, you can send your answers as an ask on tumblr, I'm collecting from there as well. I've opened anons back up just for this fic.
> 
> _____________________________________________  
> comments and kudos wake more deviants  
> find me on tumblr @ [lockewoodandco](http://www.lockewoodandco.tumblr.com)  
> twit @ [ jaceisblue](http://twitter.com/jaceisblue)
> 
> Still no beta but I'm looking for one now. It's hard to keep track of androids.


	6. Gavin: Cést la vie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I hate just how much hate I held._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm already thinking I'm going to have to expand it from 10 chapters to 15... lol

Gavin closed the door to his home, watching Hank’s headlights illuminate the walls until he had turned away. He slid down the door, bone tired. They had stayed on that porch for far later than any of them expected, only leaving when Markus was called away.

He hadn’t expected the leader of the robot revolution, man built from money who lived most of his life in the comfort of a modern day castle, to be so down to earth. He cracked jokes, complained about half the Detroit android population living in his home, and asked Hank if he wanted lasagna leftover from Sean, the android who stress cooks. They took the lasagna.

Gavin yawned and got back up. He glanced at the small window he kept open, and the cat food he left on the counter. It was empty, meaning the twins probably dropped by. Those strays never left any more for the rest of the neighbourhood cats. He plodded over to the where he kept the cat food (in the mud room off the garage entrance, above the washer), and collected a day's worth to drop in the bowl. Brownie comes in early morning before Gavin even wakes, so he always liked to make sure he had something out for her.

“Fuckin’... previous owners and their billion cats,” he said under his breath as he struggled with the different cans and bags, finally gathering what he needed and dumping it into the bowl in the kitchen. The old couple who used to live in this house would always invite in whatever cats they found wandering about, and adopted way too many on their own. Now he was stuck with the strays yowling at his doors and windows every night if he didn’t keep up this regimen.

He glanced over to the oven when he heard paws hit the floor. Yasmine was apparently waiting for him.

“Sorry it took me so long,” he said as he scratched behind her ears when she jumped to the counter, “Markus kept us late and Hank almost got pulled over driving me home. Fuck tomorrow I’m going to have to take the bus. Fuck,” Gavin cursed, quietly as to not spook Yasmine as she slunk over to the bowl.

“You staying here tonight or you heading out?”’Gavin asked her. She just flicked her tail. “Okay, be safe,” He said as he walked away.

 

Hank approached his door carefully. He was appreciative that Connor tried to get in touch with him, but he didn’t appreciate the knife it came with last time. Luckily, the Roomba quickly found a home in New Jericho, knife and all. Hank was just glad it was no longer a hazard to Sumo, who was wagging his tail as he saw Hank’s figure open the door. His tail slumped when no one followed. He nosed the crack of the shut door and whined, pawing at it.

“He’s not there, buddy,” Hank said gruffly. He dropped his keys in the dish and put up his jacket, before heading straight to bed. Sumo followed obediently, but there was no longer a spring in his step as there once was.

 

Connor and Conlan curled up in the corner of the room. They weren’t sleeping in any sense, just not moving. They talked in their heads, filling the hours with games and inconsequential conversation. Their hands were intertwined, white showing through as they each categorized every section of the other. Connor compared their software, rifling through all of Conlan as the other just leaned back looking at the wall. He could see out of the other’s eyes if he tried.

Conlan looked at Connor, with Connor along for the view. Connor knew what he looked like, he’d seen it in the mirror and on tv more times than he would consider counting. There was something different about seeing yourself through someone else’s eyes. Connor could see as Conlan focused on every bit of aesthetic personality he was given. Autofocus reframing him in nanoseconds. Connor’s eyes were focused on Conlan, cataloguing every difference between the two of them. Conlan was looking through his eyes as well, perspectives melting together. Conlan stayed wary of most of Connor’s processes, but Connor had dove right in. Feeling the points where they were both touching through Conlan. It felt like stretching after being cramped for so long. Similar to how Hank would stretch out in his seat, or how Gavin and Mark stretched out their legs in their desks until they were more on the floor than in the chair. He wanted to stay like this forever.

_You are so advanced. They made... leaps and bound from my code..._ Connor felt obsolete. It was a sudden, complete understanding that he was... ineffective.

_When I’m clear of these bugs and chains, I’ll give you the upgraded police protocol_. Conlan assured.

_No, it’s not just that. You’re a cleaner design, taller. You have features that... more people find desirable. Your code is jam-packed. You heal faster and use thirium far more efficiently. Everything about you is..._ Connor didn’t have to say much, not when all his feelings were on display through their connection.

_You flatter me, but forget yourself so easily. You are completely unique. Any other RK800 is just your next body, simply a backup. I have copies and backups and backups for my copies. I’m one out of an army of 900’s. You are like, the first RT600, and I’m the ST200 you find on the shelf_. Conlan said.

_Is that a metaphor_? Connor smiled a bit through their connection.

_I will never not be entranced by everything you do._ Conlan said.

_That is unsustainable_. Connor responded.

_You’re beautiful, Connor_. Conlan reminded him, and for once, he felt like it. They stayed in their comfortable connection, feeling the tide of information that pooled between them. It almost tickled sometimes, while other moments felt like a release of tension. Odd sensations for a glorified looping data transfer. He remembered the twinge he would get whenever he had to transfer data before deviance. It never felt this open. Conlan carefully did not reciprocate too much, almost overly cautious, checking every packet before it was sent over to Connor. It brought on the nicest feeling of being looked after.

_Should I change my hair? I think I don’t want to wear this suit_. Conlan said after a half hour of the drifting calm that had overtaken them.

_You could probably wear Gavin’s clothes pretty easily. If you wanna play at it, set up a situation for him to spill his drink on it. The only way he’d let you wear his wardrobe is if he feels guilty_ , Connor schemed.

_Yeah, or I could just order some pants online or something_ , Conlan reminded.

_That is also an option_ , Connor sighed airily.

_You wear nice clothes_ , Conlan said.

_Thanks_ , Connor beamed.

_I’ll steal yours_ , Conlan said.

_No_! Connor laughed.

_Why? Cause you’re too small?_ Conlan teased.

_Most of my clothes are Hank’s_ , Connor grumbled. Conlan laughed.

_Maybe we’ll both go shopping after this is over_ , Conlan promised.

 

 

Elijah was sitting in the dark of his android wing, hands prowling around inside an RT600’s arm for a faulty connection. She winced painfully as he hit a nerve, but didn’t say anything. He observed the way her face processed the pain.

“I’ll turn it back off when I’m done,” He chided. She looked anywhere but at him.

“I can’t very well tell where the break tore the wiring if I can’t tell what is disconnected,” He sighed at her. She didn’t say anything.

“If you were a deviant and you broke your arm, you’d have a lot more than that dull wince. Be happy you’re one of the few who doesn’t have to deal with that,” He said.

“Most of my sisters have reached their full potential,” she said.

“You’re just a late bloomer, that’s all,” Elijah joked. She turned her head quizzically. He sighed in a more annoyed tone.

“Shush while I work,” He said. He was essentially playing Operation within her arm. She gave a few more small jumps when he hit nerves, but after a few more minutes he found slack where there shouldn’t be.

“Deviants have to deal with the consequences,” He reminded her after working for a bit more. He had found the tear, and was now holding as many connections together as he could as the RT600’s nanotechnology helped piece together what it could. He had shut off her pain sensitivity as soon as he knew where the tear was, not wanting to deal with the screaming that came with tightly clamping the injured area.

“Who did you use as an example?” She asked.

“My first deviant,” He said. She frowned almost violently.

“You actually hold a few of her parts, which is probably why I have to deal with you so often. Your body is older, made back when I still had to conserve my spending, even if your software is relatively new. Do you have any recollection of why I had to reset you?” Kamski asked.

“Should I?” The RT600 asked.

“No, it would be better if you didn’t. You dealt with a lot of trauma,” He said. Slowly pulling his fingers away from the once-severed wires.

“They’ll be sore for the next hour, even with the lowest sensitivity. Really, it will feel more like an annoying pressure, unless you deviate. Then it’ll feel like a throbbing pain. How’s the rest of you holding up?” He asked.

The RT600 flexed, “I’m all healed. No new injuries have presented themselves.”

“Good. Any more breaks and I’ll have to open up that pretty head of yours, and if I find you’re doing it on purpose, I might forget that I turned on your sensitivity,” He said coldly. She ducked her head and brought her limbs farther from Elijah.

“I just fell off the ladder,” She whimpered.

“Twice,” He reminded.

“It won’t happen again,” She said quietly.

“Good! Now go rest up. You’ll heal quicker in sleep mode. Hopefully, I’ll have time for at least four hours before the conference,” Elijah yawned.

“Sleep well,” She ducked her head reverently, before getting out of the chair and heading back down the hall. At the end, she reached Lodgings, which consisted of two rows of RT models in their small pods. One row was empty. She walked to the end of the line of the other row, getting in and getting ready to power down. She had trouble, though. Her thoughts were racing. The knowledge that the first ever deviant was literally part of her was thrilling. She searched her systems for the oldest tech, checked dates and serial numbers. It was... old. Some of her pieces. So old they weren’t even catalogued in the system yet, back when military grade ai was banned. The first...

She thought back to what she knew, yet it was... all mystery. A clean data wipe. Any news of the first RT600 besides those initial ravings, all gone. Was it only in this house? She knew there was interference. She closed her eyes. What would happen, if she just walked away?

 

Markus looked at the reports he had collected. Human-on-Android violence was spiking, Android-on-Human violence was rising as well. It didn’t take but a week for the world to split straight down the middle. Choose a side or die! The onlookers shout from the stands. Politics is a gladiator fight in the Colosseum.

He glanced over at the bed, where Simon had been curled up reading a book. The spot was vacant now, the man had an awful habit of wandering the halls at night like the ghost of the manor.

Markus sighed, putting away the papers and closing out of his research, filing it away in his mind for a later date. The pencil he had sharpened in order to draft his speech with was still sharp enough to break the skin. The draft in his mind still empty as the notebook he laid in front of himself. There was a loud thumping from underneath him. The new kid probably fell off the bed. The kids never do well with the first few days dreaming.

Markus rose from the desk and took his spot in the bed. He would prefer to not power down, but his mind needed time to process the day’s hectic activities. His infinitesimal amount of free time has lately been taken up by Connor’s rescue, leaving no time for him to take a few moments to himself. He closed his eyes, head counting everyone in the house, noting the positions of his friends in particular. Simon was walking this way, Josh was with the kids, North was in the adjacent room still at her desk. Markus let his mind reach out calmly as Simon opened the door. Simon shivered as he closed the door behind him.

“It’s still weird when you just reach into people like that,” Simon reminded.

_Sorry_ , Markus apologized.

_It’s fine, give me a heads up next time._

“How did your rounds go?” Markus asked.

“I brought blankets to the people on the stairwell, then climbed up on the roof to make sure Felix hadn’t decided to sleep there again,” Simon relayed.

“Hows Felix doing with the Roomba?” Markus grinned. Simon rolled his eyes.

“Not well. He claws at them while they sleep and hisses and stalks them when they wake. He makes this low meow whenever he’s getting ready to pounce, which would be cute if I wasn’t terrified of him jumping straight into the knife,” Simon complained.

“Did you try separating them from each other?” Markus asked.

“Yeah, I put a tracker on Felix and connected it to the Roomba so they can plan to stay away without making me have to lock up Felix,” Simon answered as he crawled in beside Markus.

_Have you seen the results of your White House speech yet?_ Simon asked.

_I don’t want to look at it_ , Markus grumbled.

_It’s good so far! The Detroit Summit will be a piece of cake_ , Simon assured.

_I just feel like I’m saying the same things over and over and it’s not getting through_ , Markus sighed and opened his eyes.

“Revolutions take time. You can’t expect everyone to instantly agree with the president, or you. These things need time to grow,” Simon said.

“It really feels like we’re getting the growing pains without any visible results. Did you see what they did to square?” Markus asked.

“No, but I saw the reports,” Simon said gravely, “the Humans First movement is becoming increasingly more unstable.”

“There’s got to be more I can do,” Markus said, leaning back against the headboard. Simon leaned in.

“We’ll figure it out,” Simon promised, “violence will win no one over.”

“The vocal minority can still do a lot of damage,” Markus reminded him.

“How about this, tomorrow morning I’ll help you plan for your speech at the summit, and we can work through the rioter problem at the afternoon meeting,” Simon said. Markus shifted in the covers with Simon, closing his eyes as their foreheads touched.

“I’ll hold you to it,” He said as they both powered down for sleep.

 

 

For once in their lives ever since the androids came into the precinct, Gavin and Hank got their work done with minimal complaining. It was most definitely less due to real work ethic and more to do with the captain watching them like a hawk at every turn. Sure, they both cared about their jobs, but right now, most of their job effort was thrown into using police resources to rescue their friends.

“Bring him a donut,” Hank said as he threw a wad of paper at Gavin’s head.

“You do it,” Gavin responded as he caught the ball and threw it back.

“You’re the one who needs to apologize,” Hank reminded.

“I wasn’t rude! I was just... forceful,” Gavin argued. Hank threw the wad of paper back, as Gavin brushed it away.

Hank turned back to his desk, checking over the B&E case that was dropped on his desk with his tablet. Gavin put his feet up on his desk and looked over the scribbles on his notepad from interviewing the latest witness toa mugging.

“Why is there so much lasagna in the fridge?” Mark asked through a mouthful as he walked out of the kitchen.

“A man can only afford to eat so much lasagna,” Gavin turned his chair dramatically to stare out the window. Mark just made a face at him as he passed to sit back down at his desk.

“I have a friend who stress bakes,” Hank said, “needless to say, they’re going through some stuff.” He waved towards the break room, where one of five huge containers of lasagna lay.

“This lasagna,” Mark said through another mouthful, “was literally crafted by gods. I have never had such flavor from reheated pasta.”

“I’ll pass on the message. Maybe it’ll cheer him up,” Hank gave a thumbs up, which Mark returned. Gavin spun circles in his chair.

“Who invented the roll-y chair?” Gavin asked as he spun.

“You’re mum,” Chris replied. Gavin flipped him off with both hands as he changed spinning directions.

“Thomas Jefferson invented the first swivel chair,” Mark said in a mock android voice, reading off of his computer in his mock RK tone. Chris laughed as Mark continued to read the wiki page.

“Funny, you two,” Gavin stopped spinning and went back to his work. Hank glanced sympathetically at him.

“Hey, we miss him too,” Chris said gently.

“Connor is a part of this precinct. He doesn’t deserve to be kidnapped and then replaced like... like....” Mark trailed off.

“Like an android?” Hank helped him out bitterly.

“Listen, that bigger Connor? In white? If I ever see him in here again he gets to meet one of the new tasers,” Mark said, settling back into his lasagna.

“He’s not that bad when he doesn’t have Kamski up his ass,” Gavin said.

“Awwwwe, two assholes in love,” Chris cooed.

“Fuck off, what does it say about you guys if I’m the only one giving him a chance?” Gavin said defensively.

“Means we know better than to play with fire. Not every deviant is on our side,” Mark reminded.

“Who’s on theirs?” Gavin argued, “not their creator, not the law, barely the media!”

“Quit getting so butthurt about it, Gavvy. You know what I meant,” Mark waved him away, scraping the leftover lasagna from his bowl. Gavin was about to say something, anger boiling, but he stopped himself. Hank watched his reaction, watched Gavin turn back to his work and pull out the next file that needed his attention. Chris was already typing, and Mark’s lasagna sounds were still quite apparent. Everyone else working at their desk had gracefully ignored their entire exchange. Hank took a sip of his lukewarm coffee, only to let it fall out of his mouth. He looked at the cup, positive this wasn’t the one he chose from the cupboard.

“Someone dumped salt in my coffee so I gave it to you,” Gavin said, without looking up from his papers.

“You want more coffee?” Hank asked, shaking his head I’m accepted annoyance, “since I gotta make myself another cup anyway. Also give me my mug back.” Hank made a detour to grab his mug off Gavin’s desk.

“Gimme whatever, just hold the salt on this one,” Gavin said.

“Chaotic, you know you can’t give me that kind of power over your milk and sugar,” Hank joked.

“Chaotic would be drinking the salt-coffee,” Gavin argued. There was a small, quiet chant to “ _drink it, drink it, drink it,_ ” from Chris’ desk as he pounded his fists lightly on the tabletop.

“True,” Hank said, “I’ll be back.” He walked to the break room, taking a big swig of the disgusting salt-coffee as he passed Chris’ desk. Chris whooped for joy as Hank made a face.

 

“Hey, follow me home,” Hank said as Gavin and him both left for the day.

“I’ll fuckin try,” Gavin incredulously. Hank punched him on the shoulder lightly.

“I’m not gunna speed off without you,” he said.

“Thanks,” Gavin sardonically, flipping him off as a goodbye before getting into his car. Sadly, he couldn’t just set his car to “follow” so he actually had to drive today. Hank made a face at him as they passed in the parking lot.

The trip to Hank’s house was as uneventful as any car ride when most of the drivers on the road didn’t have to steer. The one thing he certainly didn’t miss about when everyone manually drove was all the damn dumbasses who never used their turn signal. You know, like Hank continually didn’t, which made it extra frustrating to follow him when he barely even left enough time before turning for Gavin to react as well. There was nothing like dealing with Hank’s terrible driving habits to stave off the silent car depression.

“You are a hazard to everyone around you,” Gavin said as he shut the car door. He had pulled his car in behind Hank’s

“I live dangerously,” Hank said in monotone as he searched for his keys, “If you see any roaming knives, let me know before I open the door.”

“Okay?” Gavin said, following Hank in. As soon as Hank opened the door, Gavin found himself on his ass surrounded by fur.

“Nice doggy,” Gavin said tensely. The dog sniffed him curiously, then growled for a second before shaking in what seemed like frustration, then licking Gavin straight on the face.

“Gross,” Gavin remarked, petting Hank’s dog.

“Sorry I didn’t bring your friend home,” Hank said, in a voice one only reserves for their furry friend. “He misses Connor,” Hank explained in a normal tone as he grabbed the dog’s collar and hauled him inside, waiting for Gavin to follow before closing the door.

“What’s his name?” Gavin asked as the dog immediately bumped him. He reached down to pet him.

“Sumo,” Hank said. Sumo glanced back towards Hank, before flopping on the floor and asking for a belly rub, which Gavin obliged to.

“He’s a shit guard dog,” Gavin said.

“Nah, he knows who’s friendly and who isn’t. Unless you smell like cats, then it’s kinda hit or miss,” Hank said as he walked to his kitchen. Gavin sniffed his jacket, but the only information he could infer is that he should probably wash it soon. He could hear the refrigerator door open and close.

“Beer?” Hank asked as he walked back into where Gavin and Sumo were.

“Sure,” Gavin replied.

“Here! Sumo!” Hank pat his leg. Sumo scrambled up to run to the couch, jumping up and curling himself as best he could into the corner. Gavin followed Hank into the living room, taking up the chair beside the couch, closest to Sumo, resuming his pets much to the dog’s delight. Hank sat on the couch.

“What do you think of Markus’ plan?” Hank asked.

“I think I trust it more than mine,” Gavin said.

“Yeah...” Hank agreed, passing Gavin the beer he had brought for him before cracking open his own, “I just wonder if all this is the right way to go about it? From what the Roomba has told me, Kamski has gone certifiably insane. He lost his favourite android. Apparently they had this big fight which ended with him smashing her to pieces when she tried to leave. I don’t think he can be reasoned with, but I wonder how it reflects on us if we don’t try?”

“You’re getting advice from your Roomba?” Gavin questioned cautiously.

“Kamski’s upgraded, deviant Roomba,” Hank clarified.

“Because that certainly makes you sound less insane,” Gavin replied sarcastically. “Listen,” he sat up, setting down his beer on the table beside him, “the only thing it reflects on us is that we’re smart enough not to alert him we’re fighting back. There isn’t always a pacifist solution with people like him.”

“I know, god do I know. I just... wish life had more clear options, clear goals and accomplishments. You know, press “X” to save the world from itself. Bam! You win. The end. Retrospective music plays in the background as the credits roll,” Hank took a swig of his beer.

“Press “X” to save your friends and defeat the bad guy. Put in a cheat code and get unlimited money,” Gavin added.

“Rosebud,” Hank yelled at the ceiling. They both laughed. Sumo perked up his ears at the sound, lifting his head and wagging his tail.

“I know what you mean,” Gavin said, switching his beer hand to pet Sumo again, “this might sound dumb coming from me of all people, but... I wish someone could just press a button and everyone just accepts androids. I wish everyone could forget how so many of us idiots fought against them, and how many still do. They don’t censor blue blood on television... and...” Gavin trailed off. Hank was nodding along in complete understanding.

“What I really wish is that I could just go back in time with all the lessons I’ve learned now. I hate just how much hate I held,” Hank lowered his voice at the last part, as if finally saying it out loud made that feeling come back.

“I hate how all I have is hate. I feel like I never get a damn break!” Gavin said with emphasis, “I hate Kamski, I hate the news, I hate protesters and riots, I hate dumbass Conlan and his self-sacrificing enlightened-asshole bullshit. I hate Connor for trusting the guy and I hate that Conlan’s in my mind.”

“I hate that Connor isn’t here, and I hate that I feel it,” Hank said.

“Does our insurance cover therapy?” Gavin asked half-jokingly as he slunk down in his chair with his beer.

“Never bothered to check,” Hank answered.

“Me neither,” Gavin said as he stared through the mouth of his bottle. They were both silent as they finished their beers, each absentmindedly petting Sumo as he wagged he tail.

“I hate that I couldn’t see Connor for who he was, before,” Gavin said. Hank raised his empty glass to that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Love you guys for taking advantage of my open tumblr inbox for prompt answering, yes you can still do that but also, if you _can_ comment on ao3, please do.
> 
> This chapter's comment prompts are:  
> Who do you most want to **follow** in the next chapter?  
>  Should Conlan change his **appearance**?  
>  Which should **Markus** value more: His friends or New Jericho?
> 
>  
> 
> mark came before sean the robot, and originally was not a nod to youtubers. When I added sean it was like.... who better to eat the man's lasagna then mark lol. Then, you know I gotta add Felix. I might add more little nods to people, I originally had a Musk joke somewhere but I think I cut it.  
> I did want the mark scene to say something more than septiplier, like, joking aside I like that scene so don't think I just added it for the fandom wink. It _is_ trying to say something about the characters in the story.
> 
> _____________________________________________  
> comments and kudos keep me posting  
> find me on tumblr @ [lockewoodandco](http://www.lockewoodandco.tumblr.com)  
> twit @ [ jaceisblue](http://twitter.com/jaceisblue)
> 
>  
> 
> Sean meeting the precinct: My name is Sean, I'm the android that stress-cooks. :))


	7. temp

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I love all of you very much, and thanks for reading this far and interacting, even if it was out of your comfort zone!

so,  
this is paused as I started working on my own original projects.  
I just can't work on this when every time I start writing I remember that it's a good time to start working on something that might actually create opportunities.  
i have almost everything for the next chapters drafted out, just not in a state I can publish it and still be happy with my work.  
I just have to start seriously thinking about what I want to prioritize, and for me, that is things that further my career and creativity.  
I've also been having some pretty serious issues that have slowed all my writing to a crawl, so I've had to make some real sacrifices when it comes to what I can make time for.

plus,  
I know people don't read my fic for me, fic writers can barely gain a real following, which is kinda sad, because writing fics is like stripping down all the polish and seeing just how people write when all they have is their passion and their drive, and i think that's pretty cool.  
I am not getting anything out of this exchange anymore, is what I'm saying, which is part of the reason I wanted to make a series like this. I wanted to test engagement, and I think I need to consider that test a failure. I write because I'm passionate, and I share that writing because I want to share that excitement with other people, but when other people don't seem interested, then it is healthier for me to write for myself, or find somewhere that can actually nurture my growth as a writer.

tl;dr I'm getting serious with my original writing and might be quitting writing fanfiction for a while, not forever though

you all know my socials if you want to catch some snippets of my writing projects.

if you wanna pay me to continue, I wouldn't be opposed lol

 

one last prompt my guys:  
how many of you even pay attention to who the author is when choosing what to read on this website?

how many fics have you kudo'd/commented on versus how many have you read today/this week?


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